


Star Fall Designs

by jmajerus



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: Feyre Archeron is talented at make up and dreams to make it a career.  She arrives at an interview that, if all goes well, should launch her career.  Except the man running the interviews is a huge prick.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. I had this random idea for a one-shot, became multi-chaptered as I started writing and the plot bunnies ran away with it.

Feyre Archeron sat in a hallway biting her lip as she thought about her choices before her while she glance at the door far to her right.  When she had arrived this morning the entire hall had been full of hopeful people with their portfolios waiting for a chance to go through that door.  Names were called and people went in one at a time.  Most left sobbing, two had been physically thrown out, and after everyone the door had slammed shut again.  And each new name called had been barked a little more and more until the man calling them was all but yelling at them to get a move on.  The man called only a few minutes before had cleared his chair a full foot when his name had been shouted.

Feyre wasn’t even sure why she had come.  She had been invited, that much was true.  But she was almost certain it was a mistake.  She wasn’t some big make up artist to the stars.  She was just someone who dabbled and wished she could make a living on it.

The man that was barking at them was a designer for some sort clothing brand that was about to launch its debut.  All she knew was it would be high end and rival Chanel and Prada when it came down to it.  Whispers she had gathered in the hallway from others had said anyone on the team for the launch would instantly become something big.  It appeared to be everyone’s dream.  One that was being crushed by the man behind the door to her right.

But she wasn’t sure why she was here still.  She should have gotten up and left when she had realized that everyone else there was actually trained.  They had expensive brands of make up in their kits that they had thought to bring along with beautiful portfolios.  She couldn’t afford more than drug store brands of make up and had hand me down brushes from her sisters.  And as for a portfolio, she hadn’t thought to bring more than her phone. All of her work was on Instagram and she couldn’t afford to print off the pictures and have them bound into some beautiful book.  She was grossly underqualified and prepared.  She knew that much, and yet, she hadn’t left.  And now she was the last one in the hallway.

The door opened again and she heard the man that had gone in before her pleading.  “But Sir, I can’t read your mind!  If you could just tell me—” the door slammed shut again.  The man turned and looked to her, shaking his head.  “I would run if I were you.  Save yourself the trouble.  That ass expects you to just know what he wants.”  Then he stalked down the hall, pulling his wheeled make up kit after him.

She almost got up to leave then, but something made her wait.  She had already been there for three hours, what was a few minutes more?  She had been invited after all.  Someone had reached out to her Instagram and told her to come today.  She could only imagine that someone had thought her talented enough.

But fifteen minutes later the door hadn’t opened again and she was starting to get a bad feeling.  They had called everyone else within a couple minutes of kicking out the other people.  She started to gather up her purse and stood.  Clearly the man had had enough.

Then the door opened and she glanced over expecting her name to be called but instead five people filtered out.  Three men that could have been brothers and two women that were very unrelated stepped out.

“Fifty-three people and you couldn’t find a damn one you liked,” one of the men grumbled.

“They were all shit,” came the reply from one of the other men.  “I thought you sent out the invitation to good make up artists, not the worst in the city.”

“Yes, I purposely wasted our time today by contacting only the worst make up artists I could find.”  One of the women, a beautiful blonde rolled her eyes.  The other woman, a short woman with a blunt black bob snorted.

Feyre felt her heart race.  They really weren’t going to call her.  She had come for nothing.  Had sat in that hallway for three hours for nothing.  Had taken the day off of work for nothing, sacrificing a full day of pay for this chance.

“And who the hell are you?”  The second voice snapped.

Feyre jolted at being addressed and looked up at the group to see them all watching her.  The speaker was likely the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on.  He was tall, well built, deeply tanned, and had striking violet eyes beneath midnight black hair.

“Feyre Archeron.  I was invited to interview today.”  Maybe they had just forgotten about her and if she could remind them, they would give her a chance.

“Loitering out here won’t change his mind,” the bigger of the other two men informed her.  “Best get moving.”  And she sensed the threat in his words.

“But I wasn’t even given a chance,” Feyre tried.  “You didn’t—”

“Your work isn’t good enough.  Get out,” the beautiful man snapped.  It was almost like she had been slapped in the face.  She stopped trying to explain herself then.

“Fine, you arrogant prick.  I’m sure no one wants to work for you once they get to know you anyway,” she threw the words over her shoulder as she picked up her purse and left.  She didn’t even bother looking back to see if he enjoyed being called a prick or not.

Two buses later and she was home and still fuming.  How dare they invite her and not even give her a chance?  How dare they imply she wasn’t good enough without seeing her work?  How dare they not even give her a chance to say they hadn’t interviewed her.

After stomping around her studio apartment for a minute, she stopped and took a deep breath.  If she was home for the day, she could at least do something she enjoyed.  In a corner of her apartment was a small old school desk she had salvaged from some garage sale.  It had become her place to set up all of the make up she purchased piece by piece.  Now she sat at it and wiped her face clean of the simple make up she had worn out in public.  Now she was going to do what she enjoyed.

When Feyre had first gotten into doing make up, it had been because she had been fascinated with the idea of making herself into someone else, sometimes some _thing_ else.  She enjoyed becoming the characters she dreamed up because Feyre herself was not anything special.  Her two older sisters had often forgotten about her when they had run off to do things and her mother had always forgotten about her when planning her parties, she had had few friends in school and less now.

It had started as Halloween costumes and had moved to something to entertain herself on long days home by herself.  And now she had followers on her Instagram where she had started simply storing the photos she took to remember what she had done.  There certainly weren’t many followers.  She knew some people had millions of followers.  She had dozens.  But dozens was enough to make her smile when a comment came up on her pictures.  The most common was asking her for make up tutorials on YouTube but she didn’t have a webcam, or even a computer.  All she had was her phone, some cheap make up, and old brushes.  Well those and an editing tool on her phone that she used only to edit her eye color.  In not one picture that she posted did she keep her natural eye color.  It helped her feel like she had completed the character.  And if she could afford colored contacts, she wouldn’t use the editor at all.

Feyre’s favorite looks were always along the lines of magic and fantasy.  She had done one she had called Stars Eternal that had artfully used glittering make up to make her look like she was truly glowing from the inside.  Another she had called The Huntress and had painted herself up to look like she had been some huntress from a fantasy novel complete with scratches and scars.

But this evening she didn’t feel fierce like a huntress or ethereal like a star.  No.  She felt vicious and she wanted to be something vicious and dark.  She made her face pale, contoured her sharp cheekbones to stand out more, and focused on dark eyes and deep red lips.  And as she edited her eyes to be fully black in the picture she loved how she looked almost demonic and yet sultry at the same time.  She called the look Succubus and uploaded it to her Instagram before taking off her make up.

As she finished cleaning off the last of the make up she smiled as she heard her phone beep with a notification.  As she suspected, it was a notification on her Instagram.  She knew each and every name of her followers and had several guesses of who might have commented.  But to her surprise, she didn’t know the commenter.  He wasn’t one of her followers and she felt confident from the handle that it was a man.

_High_Lord_of_Night: I love your work as a make up artist.  If you are in Prythian City, I have a job that I think you’d be perfect for.  Email me.  SFD_Rhysand@Velaris.Inc._

Feyre felt her heart start to race with excitement.  Yes, one door had closed on her this morning but this one was opening.  And it didn’t sound like someone propositioning her for sex for money though she never could truly rule that option out.  But, perhaps, this was the cauldron eddying in her favor for once.

_High Lord,_

_Thank you for your support of my work.  I truly appreciate when someone takes the time to admire my work.  I do happen to be in Prythian City and am interested in hearing the details of this job._

_Thank You,_

_Fairy_

She read her email five times over, changing words as she saw fit to make it sound more professional before she hit send.  Mother Above, if this panned out to be a real job, she could call her sisters and brag to them because they hadn’t thought doing make up would ever be a real job.  But she could already hear her eldest sister responding already.

“It’s just one job, Feyre.  Anyone can get hired once.”

No, she wouldn’t call her sisters yet.  It wasn’t worth having this small bit of happiness dashed on the ice that was Nesta Archeron, even if Elain would be somewhat happy for her.  She needed to wait to see if it even panned out to be anything.  Then, if it was a consistent job, she could call her sisters.

_Fairy,_

_Thank the Cauldron you are in Prythian City.  I’ve been searching for someone of your talent for a while and have turned the whole city upside down to come up empty handed.  I’m not in the habit of discussing business over email.  I’d much prefer to sit down to dinner with you and my team so we can get a feel for each other before ironing out the details.  Would you be available tonight?  We usually rent a private room at Sevenda’s on the Sidra at 7:30 and would love for you to join us.  And of course, dinner will be on me for dragging you out._

_Rhysand_

Feyre looked at the clock and then googled the restaurant on the phone.  An expensive restaurant located clear across the city.  It would take her three buses to get there and she would need to make herself look presentable in a short period of time to make it… but, how could she refuse.  If anything it would be a free meal at a very nice restaurant.

_Rhysand,_

_I will be there._

_Feyre_

Even in her nicest navy blue pencil skirt and her nicest crisp white blouse, Feyre felt out of place as she exited the bus two blocks down from the restaurant.  The condo complexes and hotels surrounding this area were the most high end in the city.  A night at one of the hotels would be her month’s rent for a room no better than her studio apartment.  One of the condos would be three times her life salary at the little café she worked at.  And yet she managed to hold her head high as she walked down the street to the curling cursive sign that held the name of the restaurant.

The maître d at the host stand gave her a long once over as she walked in, his nostrils flaring in distaste before he beckoned her closer.

“I assume you are looking for Rhysand?”  He asked, his voice snobbish and bored at the same time.  Without waiting for her to nod, he led her back past candle lit tables with bottles of wine and people in glittering evening gowns and tailored suits.  “In here.”  He waved her to an open doorway and left before she could thank him.

Stepping up to the door, Feyre froze solid, her mouth falling open.  Inside around the very nicely set table were the same five people she had left in that hallway hours before.  The beautiful man sitting beside an empty chair with the blonde on the other side of it.  The other three had their backs to her but she knew them all the same.  Shit.  _Shit._   No.  She wasn’t going to work for this bastard.  Not after how he had treated her earlier.

The beautiful man looked up at her and frowned.  He spoke low in another language and then the big brute of a man stood and faced her.  He came over, took her arm, and instead of leading her into the room, he led her back out of it.

“I don’t care how you learned we were here, you aren’t going to change his mind.  If you continue to stalk us, we will be seeking charges,” the man told her and led her to the door of the restaurant.  He gave her a not so subtle push and she stumbled just slightly before she was outside again.  She turned back to see the brute speaking to the maître d with a hand waving in her direction before she turned and walked herself back to the bus stop.

An hour later she arrived back at her apartment, pissed off and miserable at the same time from her hopes being dashed twice in one day and from the anger of their assumption that she was a stalker.  Prick.  Grade A Prick that could go jump into the freezing Sidra naked for all she cared.

Her phone buzzed with a notification and she looked down at it to see several more comments on her Instagram and another email.

_Fairy,_

_We’ve been waiting for you for over an hour.  Are you still coming?  I know you’re somewhat new to the business by your apparent age, but it doesn’t do well to keep potential clients waiting so long._

_Rhysand_

_Dear Prick,_

_I have now shown up twice by invitation today to show you my work and discuss possible business.  First, when I sat in that hallway for three hours only to be forgotten and turned away by your oh so kind words to me.  Second, when I came tonight only to be hauled out by your brute an hour ago.  Personally, I believe I should be billing you for my time that you’ve wasted today.  I hope your line debut goes as shittily as you treat people._

_Fairy_

She hit send before she even had a chance to second guess herself.  She didn’t even regret it.  Part of her wished she could be there to see his face when he read it.  Likely it wouldn’t affect him at all but part of her hoped it would.  Prick.

For dinner she managed to scrounge up an apple out of her kitchen with peanut butter to spread on the slices to make it more filling.  She had two days until she was paid again.  Two days before she could refill her kitchen with carefully planned out food that never lasted until the next check two weeks later.  She really shouldn’t have taken the day off, but she had hoped for just a chance.

_Dearest Fairy,_

_Let me extend my deepest apologies for how I have misjudged you.  Please come back to the restaurant so I can apologize properly with dinner and make my offer.  I would still like to work with you._

_Rhysand_

_Listen Asshole, I’m not spending another hour on the buses so you can be a prick in person over dinner that I do not wish to attend anymore.  You can keep your fake apology and look for your make up artist elsewhere._

_Fairy_

She finished her apple, showered, and deposited herself in bed refusing to look at her phone.  She didn’t want to see if he had replied.  She didn’t want anything else to do with the prick. 


	2. Chapter 2

Feyre woke to her alarm before the sun even rose and two more emails offering detailed apologies that she easily wrote off as insincere.  If he wanted a make up artist so badly, he didn’t need to be such a prick.  As she dressed and braided her hair, she heard her phone ping again.

_You know, anyone else would be crawling on their knees after me, begging for this opportunity._

It seemed he had decided to forgo the niceties now, which was fine with her.  She was done with them as well.

_I tried begging for a chance, you told me I wasn’t good enough and to get lost.  I’m not the kind of person that comes crawling back after getting kicked down.  If you want that, you could call one of the other fifty-three people you interviewed yesterday.  Stop emailing me._

She hit send and shoved an apple in her purse with plans to eat it at her lunch break.  One more day and she could buy groceries.  She practically chanted that in her mind as her stomach grumbled on the way to the bus stop. 

At work her manager Lucien, a sarcastic red head with a wicked scar down one eye, set her to pulling down chairs while he prepped the café itself.  Outside of their doors, the bookshop that housed them was slowly coming to life with the lights flickering on and bleary-eyed booksellers pushing around carts of books to shelve.

“Archeron,” she heard Lucien call as she finished pulling down the last chair.  She walked up to the counter expected some sort of sarcastic comment about how slow she was moving but instead he set a cinnamon roll on the counter with a mug of black coffee.  “I know what your pantry looks like the day before we get paid.  Sit down and eat.  I don’t want you passing out two hours into morning rush and leaving me one person down.”

To any outsider she was sure they would think Lucien only cared that she might pass out and cost him a worker, but she could see the way he pushed the cinnamon roll forward just a fraction more indicating he might be thinking more than that.  He was gruff and sarcastic at the best of times, but Lucien was at least a manager that cared, in his own way.  So she ate and then hurried to start washing the dishes already created.

An hour into her shift, she felt her phone start to vibrate with notifications in her pocket.  It didn’t stop for nearly twenty minutes and it was another hour before she had a chance to go to the bathroom and check her phone.  All of the notifications were on Instagram and every last one of them was from the prick.  He had commented on every picture she had posted, every single cauldron blessed one since she had joined and started posting her make up pictures.  The only one she looked at while in the bathroom, though, was her Stars Eternal because she had some sort of morbid curiosity of what the prick had to say about her favorite one.

_High_Lord_of_Night: THIS! I want this for my show.  I’ll come and beg on my knees._

She snorted.  Somehow she doubted that any sort of high end designer would actually get on his knees for her.  But the thought of that prick on his knees begging her appealed to her in a way she couldn’t quite forget.

_Fairy_Artist: If you come to me, compensate me for the time you’ve wasted, and beg on your knees, I may consider it._

She wasn’t sure what actually possessed her but she doubted he would be able to find her.  He didn’t know her real name.  He didn’t know where she worked or if she worked.  All he knew was her email and her Instagram handle.  There was absolutely no way the prick would find her or likely compensate her for the time he had already wasted of hers.  But it was a lovely fantasy that carried her through returning to her station in the café and through the noon rush.

An hour to the end of her shift, Feyre was scrubbing dishes in the back when Lucien came through the doors and looked her over once more. 

“What?”  She demanded with a glare in his direction when his eyes lingered on her.  Lucien never looked at her like an object.  Never flirted with her.  Never treated her as anything other than an employee that could handle his sarcasm.  If anything that was what almost made them friends.

“Some big shot is out there asking for you.  Held up a picture from Instagram to see if anyone up front knew you.  I’m trying to decide if I should be insulted that you don’t make yourself up all nice for me or not.”  He flashed her a wicked grin and nudged her out of the way of the sink.  “I’ll finish these, you deal with that ass holding up my line.”

Drying off her hands on her apron, Feyre stepped out of the back and glared outright at the man standing at the counter.  At the two men that stood with him like bodyguards.  There was absolutely no one else behind them or in the café as was normal for this time. But how in the eddies of the Cauldron had he found her? 

“What do you want?”  She demanded as his violet eyes landed on her.

“I’m fulfilling your request, Miss Archeron.  I came to you.  This is for your time yesterday and right now,” he held out an envelope to her.  She didn’t take it.  She didn’t even look at it.  How did he know her name?  “And if you would come around the counter I can get on with the last part of it,” he motioned to where she should stand next to him.

Feyre looked between the three men.  All three were ridiculously handsome.  The brute the biggest of the three with his long dark hair pulled up into a manbun.  His rough hewn features were accented by bright hazel eyes and a shit eating smirk she almost wanted to strike off of his face.  The other man was muscled but more slender.  His dark hair was short and his face more classically handsome though he bore the same hazel eyes.  Brothers?  It was possible. 

“Miss Archeron?”  The man in the center, Rhysand, she recalled his name from the emails, asked.

“How did you find me?”  She demanded.

“When you want something as bad as I want you to work for me, you may also go to extreme lengths,” Rhysand informed her, his face betraying nothing.  But the brute snorted.

“He had Az track where you posted from,” the brute nodded to the classically handsome man.

“I made him pay an exuberant price for it,” the man informed her, his voice quiet.

“What price was that?”  She asked.  If he could track her from an Instagram comment, he had to be pretty good.  Good enough to pin point where she worked in all of Prythian City.

“That I get to watch the great Rhysand Night beg,” his hazel eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief. 

“Right, so can I get on with it?”  Rhysand gestured again to the spot.

With a glance back at the doors that Lucien washed dishes behind, she stepped around the counter and took up her place.  Instantly the brute stepped back and lifted his phone clearly ready to capture this moment.  How much of a prick was this guy if his own people were so enthralled with him begging?  Rhys cleared his throat to pull her attention back to him and then dropped to his knees before her.

“Miss Archeron, I apologize for my idiocy yesterday.  I have no decent excuse for how you were treated.  My cousin verified that you indeed had been invited to interview and that we somehow had managed to skip over your name on the list.  As for what happened at the restaurant, I have no explanation.  I apologize from the bottom of my heart.  From what I have seen of your work, I know I do not wish to work with anyone else.  Please, Miss Archeron, allow me to pay you for use of your immense talents.”  He bowed his head and folded his hands, the picture of misery in his begging.

Just because she was sure that this man had never been denied anything in his life she waited until he looked up at her with those violet eyes.  “I’ll consider it.”

“What?”  Rhysand demanded.  “You’ll _consider_ it?  I followed your instructions to a T and you’ll just consider it?”

“In those instructions I said if you came, and compensated me for my wasted time, and begged on your knees, I would consider it.  I am upholding what I said I would do,” Feyre shrugged and turned to walked back behind the counter, leaving Rhysand on his knees.  When she did glance back up at both of the men with him, they were covering laughter.

“Very well,” Rhysand stood and straightened his very expensive looking suitcoat.  “Let me know when you have decided.”  He withdrew a card from his pocket and placed it on top of the envelope on the counter.  “And Cassian, if that video ends up on the internet, I’ll flay you alive.”

“I’ll send you the link,” the brute, Cassian, murmured to her before he followed Rhysand to the door.

“Don’t leave that sitting on the counter,” the last man, Az, told her with a nod to the envelope.  “Can’t wait to work with you, Miss Archeron.”  Then he too followed Rhysand out.

Feyre waited a full five minutes before she opened the blank envelope and glanced inside at the check made out to her with her real name.  She had to be dreaming.  This couldn’t possibly be real.  But then Lucien leaning over her shoulder gave a low whistle when he beheld the amount on the check.  She wasn’t sure what her time was valued at.  As a barista that Lucien could count on reliably, she made $10 an hour.  If anything she expected about that from Rhysand for the few hours of her time he had wasted the day before.  But in her hands was a check for $2,500. 

“If you don’t work for him, I will.  I just need you to show me how you do your thing,” Lucien informed her.

“He’s kind of a prick though,” Feyre tried to justify it.

“A damn good looking prick that pays well,” Lucien snatched up the business card.  “Think he might be into men?  I could use a sugar daddy.  Rhysand Night.  Hmm, Mr. Lucien Night.  I could make that work.”

Feyre simply rolled her eyes.  “Good looking doesn’t make up for the fact he’s an ass.”  She sighed and took the business card from him.  “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let me see your phone,” Lucien held out his hand to her.  She gave it over without worry.  She did trust Lucien not to go digging around in things she would consider private.  And when she glanced at what he was doing, he was digging through her Instagram.  “You’re good, Feyre.  Very good.  And didn’t you ask for yesterday off to interview for him?”

“Yes, but that was before I met him,” she shrugged.

“You want to do make up for a living.  He is offering you quite the living if this check is any indication,” Lucien nodded to the check in her hands.

“I know, but I still don’t really know what to do.  I have a job here and you’re less of a dick than he is,” Feyre explained.

“Oh, I can fix that problem,” Lucien announced.  “Miss Archeron, please hand in your apron and name tag.  You are no longer employed here.”  He held out his hands expectantly.

“Stop joking around,” Feyre snorted at him and went to go into the back to see if Lucien had left her any dishes.

“I’m not, Feyre,” Lucien stepped in her path.  “Only employees allowed in back.  You no longer work here.  Please turn in your name tag and apron.”

“I can’t believe this,” she glared at him as she took off her apron and name tag to hand over.

“I know,” Lucien smirked at her.  “Just remember poor humble me when you’re all famous and doing make up for the stars.”

“Humble, my ass,” she grumbled and stepped out from behind the counter.  “I’ll give Rhysand your name if he’s looking for someone to tumble into bed with.  You two deserve each other, I think.”

Lucien only snorted and waved her off.  She went, taking her check and walking to the bus stop.  If this all did pan out, she would give Rhysand Lucien’s name.  If anything, it would shock her now former manager for her to have followed through.

She stopped at the bank, deposited the check, bought groceries, and went home with the intention of making Rhysand wait at least until the following day before she asked for the details of the work he was offering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I love all comments. They make me feel good and encourage me to write even when I feel burned out on everything else in my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Feyre didn’t just make Rhysand wait a day.  She cashed that check, went grocery shopping, bought a few pieces of make up she had had her eyes on if she could ever afford them, and bought new brushes.  Then she sat in front of her mirror and experimented for two days before she called the number on Rhysand’s card to agree to see a contract and nothing more.  The contract was in her email within minutes of her calling him.

The legal terms were confusing to her but she understood enough of it to know she was likely to accept the job.  The man was offering to pay her $15,000 per show and another $2,000 a day for any photo shoots and consultations she participated in.  The initial contract would consist of the opening show with make up for ten models, three consultations with Rhysand and his team prior to the show, and two days of photoshoots for his ad campaign.  With a whooping total of $25,000 for roughly two weeks of intense work, Feyre was already planning to sign on but she took the contract to the only person she knew who could read the legal terms anyway.

Her eldest sister, Nesta, was not someone she liked to bother much and even just calling to wish her a happy birthday or holiday of any sort seemed to bother her, but Feyre had deemed this somewhat important and part of her wanted Nesta to see she could do something with her abilities to create illusions with make up.

“What do you want?”  Nesta demanded when Feyre knocked on her door on Saturday morning. 

“I need your help,” Feyre spoke the words that came the hardest to her.  “I need someone smart and you’re the smartest person I know.”  And if Nesta refused, she would go to Lucien.  He seemed like the type that would know something about legal terminology.

“Well, that much is obvious.  But what do you want?”  Nesta over enunciated the words, adding a bit of bite to each one.  Feyre almost expected to see frost come out of her mouth.

“If now is a bad time, I can see if I can find someone else,” Feyre folded the contract back into her hands.  It was stupid to think Nesta would help her.  She only ever helped Elain.

“It is a bad time.  I am busy doing something,” Nesta snapped and made to close the door but a big hand stopped it and pulled it back open.

“Well, the doing part was over an hour ago, Sweetheart, and last I checked, I’m still a some _one_ not a _thing_.”  The man said and Feyre couldn’t help but stare.  It was the brute.  Rhysand’s brute.  What was his name?  Cassian?  Why was he at Nesta’s house?  “Oh, Feyre, right?”

“You know my sister?”  Nesta whirled on him.

“My brother has been trying to hire her for the past week,” Cassian explained.  “Something he has been sweating over and I, for one, am quite thrilled you have made him sweat.  Even more so since he sent you the contract and he hasn’t gotten a response yet.  You might be my new favorite person.”  He paused and glanced at Nesta.  “After Nes here.”

Nesta stared between them looking like she was almost disgusted with the situation.  If what Feyre had gleaned from Cassian’s earlier words was correct, Nesta was sleeping with him, perhaps dating, but mostly sleeping with him.

“So how much longer are you making my brother sweat?”  Cassian asked.  “I have a bet to win.”

“As soon as I can get the legal terms on this contract figured out, I may get back to him.”  Feyre admitted.  Already she was starting to like this Cassian brute despite her initial meetings with him.

“Hence why you were looking for the very smart Nesta Archeron,” he looked between them.  “The resemblance is uncanny.  I’m surprised I didn’t notice when you were at the interview, or the restaurant, or the café.” 

“It doesn’t matter.  I’m busy and go to a library if you need word help.  Or better, yet, go back to school and learn something useful for once.”  Nesta wrenched the door from Cassian’s grip and didn’t bother with a goodbye as she slammed it.  Feyre almost wished she was surprised but she wasn’t.  Her relationship with Nesta had always been a rocky one.

She was halfway to the bus stop when she heard running footsteps and a hand settle on her shoulder.  She flinched on instinct but when she looked back it wasn’t someone trying to grab her to rob her of the little money she carried or haul her into an alley.  It was just Cassian.

“You need help with all of the needless legal language of the contract, right?”  He asked when she looked at him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she started but Cassian held up a hand to stop her.

“I may look like a brute that doesn’t understand a single piece of legalese, but after living with Rhys for so long, you learn enough of it.”  Cassian reached for the folded paper, took it from her, and began scanning it carefully.

For a moment she blinked at him realizing she hadn’t even considered her might not understand the legal language.  Her concerns were far different.

“That too,” she managed to struggle through the words.  “But I was more concerned with the fact you already work for and apparently live with the man that wrote it.  I doubt you’ll have my best interests in mind and how do I know you won’t lie to me.”

Cassian simply nodded at her and continued reading the contract.  His expression remained serious as he looked over all of it.  Then he looked at her.  “I’d suggest you negotiate a bit more.  Your work is worth more than what he is trying to pay you and like all good businessmen, he isn’t giving you his best offer first.”

“Businessman?  I thought he was a designer,” Feyre pressed as Cassian started to steer her down the street, not towards the bus stop but towards a small café.

“He may have some fashion-sense but he isn’t a designer.  He’s just the money and vision behind the rest of it.”  Cassian explained as he sat them at a table in the café.

“Then who is the designer?  The blonde?”  She had seemed a bit fashionable.

“Mor?  No.  She’s the creative director,” he set the contract between them.  “I keep telling Rhys most normal people don’t need all of these hereby’s and furthermore’s that make this contract annoyingly hard to read and not fall asleep.”

Feyre wasn’t fooled by the deflection.  She had been doing similar tactics most of her life when asked questions she didn’t want to answer.  Whoever the designer was, it wasn’t someone he wanted to say.  Perhaps he was the designer and didn’t want the credit.

“Okay, so here’s what it says in plain terms and if you want to check me on it, feel free to find someone else to explain it too.”  He began explaining the different points of the contract.  When he was done explaining the whole of the contract he turned to telling her exactly how much she could push Rhys on what he would pay her.  He even helped her craft the email she sent to Rhys about her concerns with the contract and briefed her on how Rhys would respond over cups of hot chocolate.  She had asked for more than she knew she would receive knowing Rhys had to negotiate with her and they would meet in the middle. 

“Now about your kit,” Cassian returned to the table with fresh hot chocolates.  “I know I said we would provide your brushes and the make ups but it would be helpful knowing what kinds you would like to work with so we can be prepared.  What’s your preferred brand?”

“Honestly,” she bit her lip.  “I don’t know.  I mostly work with the cheap drug store brands.”

She expected Cassian to laugh at her or stare in disbelief but instead he took out his phone and pulled up her Instagram account.  “Knowing that, I’d say these are more impressive now.  You are incredibly talented.”  He scrolled a bit more.  “I think this one is my favorite.”  He held up his phone to show her one where she had created fake scratches and scars on her face with blood splattered over one cheek and her forehead to make it look like she had been in some battle.  “Beautiful work really.  And we can figure out what you like to work with.  I’ll have Az look into what top brands match your aesthetic best.  In fact, send me a list of what you used for your Stars Eternal one because the Mother knows that Rhys is utterly in love with it and we will need to match some of those products for you.”

“If Mor is the creative director, why is Rhysand the one picking out which make up artist and style he wants?”  She asked.

“Has Rhys responded yet?”  Cassian dodged the question again with a nod to her phone.  She let him.  If she was going to work with them, she would get the answers soon enough.  Instead of pushing, she looked at her phone and saw Rhysand had indeed responded.

_Feyre,_

_You play hard ball.  I like it.  I’ll send you an updated contract immediately to electronically sign and then I’d like you to meet with my team on Monday._

_Rhysand_

“Mother’s Tits!”  Cassian gasped over her shoulder as he read it too.  “He shouldn’t have caved like that.  You must really have him on edge.”  Cassian clapped her on the shoulder.  “I think I’m really going to enjoy having you on the team, Feyre.”  A moment later his own phone rang.  Cassian showed her the caller and she almost laughed as she saw it was Rhysand.  “Yello,” he answered.  “Oh, you finally got her to agree.  That’s great.  Did you have to beg some more?  Well it was funny to me, and to Az actually.  And Mor.  Alright fine, what do you want then?  Hold on a sec, let me check my calendar.”

Cassian muted the phone and set it down, and took a good long drink of hot chocolate before he fixed Feyre with his hazel stare.

“He wants to know when I’d be available for a meeting on Monday to meet with you and organize how we will work together.  What time would you like me to pick you up?”

“Eight?”  Feyre asked.  A morning meeting would be best so she could get herself moving on this project.  Make herself feel like she was actually earning the money she had just won for herself somehow.

“Perfect,” Cassian grinned at her and then picked up the phone again.  “I have something going on at eight so let’s do nine-thirty.”  When Feyre made to protest, he pressed a finger over his lips to shush her.  “Great.  See you later.”  Then he hung up.

“Why nine-thirty?”  She asked looking at the phone he set down again.

“I like to get breakfast before these meetings.  There’s one of those fancy single cup espresso machines but no snacks and these meetings can go long.  A good hearty breakfast makes them bearable.  And as my new best friend, I’d like to treat you while we organize how we are going to storm this meeting.”

“Storm this meeting?”  She raised an eyebrow at him.  It sounded like he planned to attack Rhysand.  She suspected it was almost some sort of attack on the man and she almost felt bad for him.  But Cassian seemed to be having fun and she wasn’t sure she wanted to take that from him either.

“Rhys is a businessman, as I’ve said before.  He invests in profitable endeavors and grows an already massive fortune.  Most of the people that hold meetings with him to earn his favor make or break it in the first thirty seconds of speaking.  He’s a hard ass, honestly.  If you aren’t confident, he finds your weaknesses and exploits them.”

“You’re really making me want to work for him now,” Feyre informed Cassian, sarcasm dripping from her words, and he gave her a wry grin in return.

“But there’s a difference in how he’s going to expect this meeting to go.  He’s not going to expect anything out of you yet.  He’s likely going to use this meeting to introduce you and get you acclimated to the idea of the show he wants to put on.  He’s going to try to get you to brainstorm with the hairstylist and the creative director to create the perfect look.  But if you were to have already conspired with the hairstylist…” he gave her a broad grin.

“Bullshit!”  She choked.  Cassian was the hairstylist?  This large, heavily muscled brute of a man was the hairstylist?   He looked more like he should own a gym or be on some sort of sports team than playing with hair.

“Not bullshit,” a twinkle lit his eyes.  “It’s a hobby of mine.  How else do you think I’d have such a perfect manbun?”  He waved a hand at his dark hair piled on his head.  “Knowing that, Rhys thought I’d be perfect to boss around for his show.”

“But it’s not your actual job,” she pressed.  He had said it was a hobby.  That had to mean it was something he did on the side, right?

“No.  I own a gym about a mile from here,” he assured her and she hid her smile at being right about him.  “But it pretty much runs itself, which means I can spend some time on this to help Rhys get his line off the ground.”  He gave her a smirk that made her feel inclined to punch him.  “So if you and I were to conspire Monday morning over a nice breakfast, you can take this meeting by storm and twist the grip you already have on Rhysand’s balls it seems.”

“Do I want to have him by the balls?”  Feyre asked.  She wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.  It could be tiring to try staying on top of Rhysand.

“You do, Feyre.  Rhys has always gotten everything he wants without having to work hard for it.  You’re good for him.  He has to work to impress you now that you’ve established you’re not easily won over.  It will bruise his ego a bit and maybe humble him.”

“Again, you paint a wonderous picture of him,” Feyre rolled her eyes and gathered up the contract that had been discarded on the table.

“Rhys is a good man.  A cocky, arrogant, bastard sometimes, but a good man underneath.  I think you’ll like working with us if you give it a chance.”  Cassian rose.  “Here’s my card.  Email me with your address, phone number, and the list of make ups you used for your Stars Eternal.”  He clapped her on the shoulder, slipped the card into her hand, and left the café whistling the whole way.

Feyre watched him go for a moment and glanced down at the contract in her hands once more.  Perhaps she really did have Rhysand by the balls more so than she thought.  He had agreed to pay her $25,000 for the show and $5,000 for any photoshoots and consultations.  She had effectively doubled her original contract.  Part of her questioned how far she might have been able to push him.  But no.  She didn’t need to be more greedy than she already had been.  She needed to go buy a printer, print the photos of her Stars Eternal and the other experiments she had done over the last two days, and then make her list for Cassian.  She would make sure she was prepared come Monday morning to make sure Rhysand found no reason to take away that more than generous salary.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre meets the team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all of those celebrating!

On Monday morning Feyre wasn’t too impressed with the outside of the building Cassian had dropped her off near.  It looked just like every other office building in the area with mirrored glass windows on every outside surface above the concrete base.  The plain sign carved into the concrete simply read ‘Night Court Industries’.  She looked it over with a sigh.  Never had she ever thought herself to be a person who would wear a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels and carry a briefcase into an office building as part of her routine.  That was more Nesta’s world than it had ever been Feyre’s.  But now here she was, briefcase in hand, heels clicking on the concrete sidewalk as she made her way up the stairs trying to look professional.

The inside of the building was almost sterile.  The polished marble floors and columns were the only decoration aside from the stylized sleek chairs that sat in the lobby in front of a reception desk.  The receptionist was unremarkable.  Some young woman dressed in a far too expensive suit looking completely unimpressed by Feyre in her lobby.

Feyre had asked Cassian why she couldn’t walk in with him but he had explained that it would be more fun to torment Rhys by pretending they hadn’t been conspiring.  So here she was in the lobby waiting for the receptionist to do more than glance at her and losing her patience by the second as the receptionist continued to type away on a computer without sparing more than an irritated look at her every few seconds.

“Excuse me,” Feyre said when it was getting too close to 9:30 for her liking.  “My name is Feyre Archeron and I’m here for a meeting,”

“Have a seat,” the girl flicked her fingers in the direction of the chairs and returned to her typing with an eyeroll.  So Feyre sat and waited, her anxiety starting to build as time seemed to stretch.

“Mr. Night!”  The receptionist’s surprised gasp made Feyre look up to see Rhysand come into the lobby dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit.  “Can I help you with something?”  She asked, her voice shaking.

“Ah, Miss Archeron, there you are,” Rhysand ignored the receptionist.  “I’ve been waiting to be notified you had arrived.  Please, the conference room is this way.”

Feyre risked one glance back at the receptionist as she followed Rhysand and saw the girl’s mouth agape before they disappeared down a hallway behind the desk. 

“Do you like coffee, Miss Archeron?  I mean, I know you worked in a café but that doesn’t always mean someone likes coffee drinks.  So if there is something other than coffee that I can get you, please let me know,” he rambled as he led her towards an open door at the very end of the hall.

For a split second she recognized that he was nervous.  Nervous enough to ramble when Cassian had said he was normally far too eloquent for his own good.  She almost thought to tease him by telling him she wanted some random tea to see how far he would go to please her but seeing the twitch of his lips, she decided against tormenting him a little more.

“Coffee is fine,” she assured him.

“Right, well there’s coffee maker in the room.  I’m just waiting on one more of my team and then we will be down.  Please make yourself comfortable.”  He held open the door of the conference room and then abandoned her almost immediately.

Where the rest of the building looked sterile, the conference room was almost cluttered.  The table held fabric samples, discarded jewelry, and various sketches.  Around the room, the walls had sketches of clothing pinned up alongside pictures of hairstyles, pinned up jewelry, and a pixilated picture of her Stars Eternal from her Instagram.  Along the back wall was a cabinet with an espresso coffee maker that used those fancy single serve cups to brew from.  She selected a promising looking one, popped it in, and began to explore the beautiful outfits and dresses that lined the walls in sketch form.  And when she had the lay of the land, she opened her briefcase, withdrew the stack of printed pictures she had done, and began to pin them in place of where she thought they should go.  If Rhysand only wanted the one look, she would take the others down, but she almost hoped he would let her exercise some judgement.

“Miss Archeron, this is my team,” Rhysand came back in and stopped short in the doorway.  His eyes flickered to every picture she had hung up and then back to her.  “These weren’t on your Instagram.”

“Well, once I knew what you wanted, I thought I’d experiment a little,” Feyre folded her hands in front of herself.  Cassian had taken a look at her pictures over breakfast and had been pretty sure Rhysand would like them but now faced with his too critical eye, she worried.  But Rhysand didn’t say anything more.  He walked into the room and started to examine her photos up close.

“Lost him already, I see,” Cassian drawled as he stepped into the room followed by his brother Azriel and the very beautiful creative director, Mor.  “Let me introduce everyone.  This is Azriel, he’s the tech guy.  This is Mor, the creative director.  And I’m Cassian, the amazing hair stylist.  And you’ve met Rhys.”  He waved at Rhysand who was moving from look to look without paying them any mind.  “He may return to us sometime this century.”

“Oh!  You like the caramel mochas too?” Mor demanded when she got to the coffee maker.  “You’d be the tie breaker.  Rhys and Az think they are too sweet and no normal human should consume that much sugar with their coffee.  They drink just plain boring coffee.”

“I prefer the term, unaltered, thank you,” Rhysand turned back to them.  “Miss Archeron, these are very good.  I like your pairings for the most part however, I am hoping you might be willing to switch this one,” he pointed to one of the grander gowns.

“I’m open to suggestion,” she went to stand at his side and listened as he began to explain his vision.  He apparently had been in love with the literal glowing skin she had created and now she had managed to make the skin seem to glow different colors and sparkle as if the person was coated in star dust.  The others fell into making quiet suggestions here and they moved from look to look. 

Before Feyre had much of a chance to realize it, she had been with them well over two hours talking possibilities and rearranging looks and she had had the chance to see a much softer side to Rhysand than the harsh businessman that made people cry.

“So now we just need to see to making sure we have your make ups on hand,” Rhysand turned to her.  “Do you have a preferred brand?”

Feyre blinked and realized they had reached the part of the meeting well past where she and Cassian had planned their collusion.  With the way things had gone, there hadn’t even been a chance to take Rhysand by surprise.  In fact, none of this meeting had gone like Cassian had said it would.  She hadn’t even realized it had truly started.

“After receiving your list,” Azriel started with a pointed look at Feyre.  “I think I’ve found a combination of products you’ll like that will stand up to what we need them to.  You’ll probably want to experiment with them to make sure you can get your desired effects.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes narrowed on him and then flickered to Feyre.  His lips pursed slightly as he glared at the people in the room before his eyes narrowed more on Cassian.  One raised eyebrow later had Cassian erupting in laughter.

“Feyre, let me take you to see what we have for you and the schedule for the next events,” Mor strung an arm through hers and steered her out of the room but not before she heard the question Rhysand asked Cassian.

“Did you hunt her down to harass her more?  I just barely got her to agree.  I don’t need you jeopardizing this,” Rhysand snapped.

“Relax, Rhys.  I happened across her while she was trying to figure out your overly legal worded contract.  I spent more time assuring her she wasn’t about to work for a complete ass.  Don’t prove me wrong,” Cassian replied calmly.

“Well,” Mor gave her arm a squeeze telling Feyre she had heard it all too.  “Rhys is my cousin, so I might be a bit biased.  He can be an ass but usually with a reason.  This launch just has him stressed.  He wants it to be perfect.  Well, he wants everything to be perfect.”

“So he’s always an ass then?”  Feyre asked as Mor steered her around a corner into a bright office loaded down with boxes in one corner.

“He always has potential to be an ass, but for the most part he isn’t.  So here is what we have,” Mor started opening boxes to produce containers of makeup that Feyre had only ever dreamed of being able to play with.  “I understand you’ll want to play around with them to see if you can get the same effects so we got a little extra.  And of course, you can keep whatever we don’t use.  No need to have all of this extra lying around here when who knows what image Rhys will have in mind for the next show.  Or maybe he will let me do my job for once.”  Mor grinned. 

“Why does Rhysand have control of all of this?  Isn’t he just the investor?”  Feyre demanded.

“He’s the investor, but this particular project he wanted control of,” Mor shrugged.  “I’m curious.  All of your work on your Instagram is done on yourself.  Have you ever applied makeup on another person?”

Feyre blushed.  No, she hadn’t.  Her sisters hadn’t ever wanted her to help with their makeup though she had offered, and she had a sad lack of friends to apply makeup to.  She had only ever had herself.

“Well, I have some free time later if you want to practice,” Mor told her happily.  “And I think I can scrounge up a few more people to practice on.  Then you can play around with the new makeup and practice on people.  Oh!  We can have some wine, and dessert.  Maybe some pizza, but mostly dessert.  I’ll give you my address so you can come by tonight.”

Feyre stared at the bubbly blonde.  She had offered herself up to be experimented on.  Not only that, but she seemed to be making an evening of it.

“Why?”  She blurted out.

“Because dessert is amazing and should take the place of every course of every meal,” Mor turned molten brown eyes on her.  “And chocolate dessert goes exceptionally well with red wine, and I do love my red wine.”

“I mean, why offer yourself up like that?”  Feyre clarified.

“Oh, isn’t that what friends do?”  Mor asked, her voice completely sincere.

Feyre stared at her again.  Friends?  She had never really had a friend.  Certainly never a friend that appeared to be as eager as Mor.  They were coworkers now, sure, but friends?

“We’re friends?”  Feyre asked finally.

“Of course we are!  We are going to be seeing a lot of each other so we might as well be friends!  Also, you make Rhys flustered so you’re a handy person to keep around.”  Mor beamed at her.  “And!  I refuse to let Cassian have you all to himself.  He’s a friend hog!  It’s taken me years to break Azriel from his hold enough to get him to agree to come out dancing from time to time.”

“That has nothing to do with my friendship with Az,” Cassian chuckled from the doorway.  “He just doesn’t like clubbing, but you’ve worn him down.”  He turned to Feyre.  “Careful, she’ll have you at the club every night if you let her.  And Az is just more of a sit home and enjoy a glass of good aged bourbon sort of man.”

“And Rhysand?”  Feyre asked.  Immediately she blushed.  Why did she care what he preferred to do with his time.

“Rhys likes going out from time to time, and sitting on his roof to brood with a bottle of liquor the other times,” Mor sighed.  “I can’t break him of that habit.  So, tonight.  Let’s say six.  We’ll have pizza, and wine, and dessert and then we can have some fun.”

“Oh, we are having a fun night?”  Cassian asked.

“A girls’ night,” Mor clarified, folding her arms over her chest.

“Sounds great, I’m in.”  Cassian gave Feyre an overdramatic wink which seemed to make Mor roll her eyes.  “I’ll pick you up.  And speaking of rides, I can bring you home whenever you are ready.”

Within half an hour, Feyre was holding a small fortune in makeup that was for her to play with and was out the door with Cassian.  He chatted with her the entire ride home, talking about his gym, pointing out restaurants as they drove past them to talk about his favorite dishes at each of them, and the music playing on the radio.  Then he dropped her off at her apartment with a plan to pick her up that evening.

By the time Feyre opened the door to her apartment, she heard her phone chime.  She wasn’t sure what she expected it to be but a message from Cassian seemed likely.  Instead she had two text messages from a number she didn’t know and an email.  The messages were from Mor it seemed, asking for her favorite pizza and her wine preference.  The email was a different matter entirely.

_Feyre,_

_Your new ideas you presented today were exquisite.  Almost as exquisite as you.  I am very glad I got on my knees for you._

_Rhysand_

Feyre felt herself blush as an image presented itself in her mind of Rhysand on his knees before her.  Except this time he wasn’t apologizing to her.  This time there were far fewer clothes and his sensuous voice was purring the word ‘exquisite’ from between her naked thighs. 

Feyre shook her head to banish the image from her mind.  She was _not_ going to entertain those thoughts.  Rhysand was her boss and an ass on top of that.  She was _not_ going to entertain those thoughts.  Nope, not at all.  And to prove her point, she went to take a cold shower to rid herself of any desire whatsoever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's taken me a while for a not super long chapter. I've had sick kiddos and then with the holidays my days off have been occupied. Hoping to get back into a rhythm soon. Starting to get a sense of where this is going to go.


	5. Chapter 5

The townhouse that Cassian pulled up to was massive for anything she ever considered a townhouse.  It was three stories of beautiful stonework and appeared to take up at least a third of the block.  A wrought iron fence wound around the small amount of lawn flanking the cement walkway up to the front door.  She expected something opulent inside when Cassian knocked twice and then pushed open the door without waiting for an answer, but instead she found the place to be warm and inviting.  The red carpets were worn as if they hadn’t been replaced in years, and the dark wood walls gave the place a cozy feel.  To her left was the living room complete with plush, well-loved furniture, a fire place, and a television that took up a good portion of the space above the fireplace.  To her right was the dining room that held a massive table already loaded down with pizza boxes, platters of cookies, small cakes, and pastries, and various bottles of wine.

“Feyre!”  Mor came down the hallway that went past the stairs.  She held a glass of wine in her hand already.  Behind her a pretty girl with tawny curls and gold eyes followed along with Azriel.  “This is my girlfriend Andromache.  She volunteered to be beautified by you as well.  And, of course, you have me.  And I thought we’d make good use of Cassian since he’s so pretty.  He’s already agreed.”

Feyre whipped around to stare at the bulky man.  He agreed to have makeup applied to him?

“Paint me like one of your French girls, Feyre,” Cassian feigned a high-pitched voice and threw a hand over his eyes.

“Cauldron boil me,” Feyre covered her face as she imagined him flaunting the makeup about.  “And you?”  She looked to Azriel.

He flashed her a slash of a grin.  “I’m here to document blackmailing evidence on that one,” he nodded to Cassian.  “And to make sure everyone gets home after all of this wine.”

“Can’t blackmail me if I enjoy it!”  Cassian barked out a laugh.  “And you know we can all stay if we get that drunk.  There are certainly enough guest rooms.  Let’s eat and then we can make me beautiful.”

“He needs all the help he can get,” Mor told Feyre.  “Let me get you some wine so you can stomach it.”

Mor produced a wine glass for her and they settled around the table to eat pizza.

“If I would have had more than a day’s notice, I could have been a little fancier.  Appetizers we could enjoy while you worked,” Mor told her as they opened the boxes of pizza.  “Little water chestnuts wrapped in bacon, little pastry cups with goat cheese and figs, tiny beef wellingtons…”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Andromache leaned over to Feyre.  “She can’t cook.  She just wishes she had time to make up a menu for the housekeepers.”  Cassian started to chuckle and Azriel hid a smile behind his tumbler of amber liquid.

“That’s not true!”  Mor lightly slapped Andromache’s arm.  “Or, not completely true at least.  I could have had it catered as well.”

Feyre snorted into her wine glass and had to set it down to prevent herself from spilling the scarlet liquid everywhere.  Despite the red carpet, she doubted anyone wanted wine spilled in their house.  But even as she set down her glass, she caught Mor’s infectious smile and returned it. 

“Mor can’t cook at all.  You should hear about the time she set fire to the kitchen because she tried to boil water,” Cassian informed her.

“I did not set fire to the kitchen,” Mor’s voice became haughty.  “We put out the flames long before it damaged more than the pot.”

Again, Feyre snorted as Cassian launched into the whole story for her to hear.  That story launched one about Cassian drunkenly believing he could fly and jumping off a second-floor balcony.  Stories went back and forth enough that Feyre easily gathered that Mor and Cassian were the wild ones of the group.  Andromache, or Andi as she urged Feyre to call her, was the often ignored voice of reason for Mor.  Azriel, it seemed, was somewhat of an instigator on top of being the one to record it all.  And when she pointed that out after most of the pizza was gone and she had had just enough wine to be warm and loose but not uncoordinated, Azriel gave her a small wink.

“If you want an instigator, Az is nowhere near as bad as Rhys,” Mor informed her.  She launched into a story about Rhysand convincing her as a child to sled down one of Prythian City’s many libraries staircases, which, in turn, launched a story from Cassian about a hunting trip that had turned into a snowball fight, started by Rhysand. 

The stories continued as Feyre started setting out the makeup she had been given to play with and her brushes, and Mor produced a stool from the kitchen.  While there seemed to be a large number of stories of stunts Mor and Cassian had pulled, there seemed to be twice as many involving Rhysand.  As she painted up Mor, then Andi, Feyre found herself thinking that maybe asshole Rhysand was only a part of his personality, a large part of it from what she had witnessed so far, but a part none the less.

Then it was on to painting Cassian and she sat him on a regular chair to keep him on her level.  She contemplated his face longer.  It was easier for her to envision Mor or Andi as the glowing beings she had created.  With Cassian, it was more difficult.  Instead she saw him on a battlefield wielding swords and screaming battle cries. 

“You better make me pretty,” Cassian warned as she reached for her brushes.  “I want to sparkle and shine.”

It took more of her concentration to turn his rough-hewn, ruggedly handsome features into a glowing, ethereal being.  She was so focused on the task at hand she was unaware of the front door opening, of the hushed conversation behind her, or anything else at all until Cassian blinked up at her and gave her the perfect duck face as she stepped back from him.

“I think I’m going to need a picture of this,” Feyre told him honestly.  Despite the five o’clock shadow on his face, he looked like a glowing angelic woman.  It had to be some of her best work.

“I’ll take some for you,” Azriel promised.  “I’ll make sure to make it perfect.  I already got some of Andi and Mor for your portfolio.”

Cassian slipped out of the chair towards where Azriel was standing.  Feyre smiled at him, watching him attempt to swish his hips as he walked.  When she turned back to the chair to move it back to the table, she found it occupied.  Violet eyes stared back at her as a smirk lit up Rhysand’s face.

“Can I be next, Darling?”  He asked, his voice a soft purr.

“You want makeup put on you?”  Feyre asked, skeptical of the man in front of her.

“I’d like to see the master at work and offer myself for you to practice on.  Afterall, practice makes perfect, Darling,” he leaned forward just slightly and Feyre took a small step back.  He had removed his suitcoat to reveal the violet button down underneath.  His sleeves were rolled up his forearms and his tie had disappeared.  He almost looked… relaxed which seemed odd.

“Azriel is going to take pictures,” she decided to warn him.  Perhaps it would change his mind.

“I’m counting on it,” he flashed her a smirk.  “I’d like to have a copy of the day the famous Feyre Archeron did my makeup.”

“I’m not famous,” she told him as she turned to her supplies.  She let her hand hover over the different tubes, palettes, and cannisters as she decided what she was going to use on him.

“Not yet, Darling, but I have no doubt you will be.”  Rhysand pulled her attention back to him.  “I’ll be proud to be one of the people that helped you get your start and maybe you’ll remember me one day when you look back.”

Feyre selected her first product and turned to Rhysand to start applying the layers it would take to make his golden skin glow and shimmer.  He said no more as soon as her brush touched his skin. 

“I doubt I’ll be able to forget you,” she told him as she blended the makeup on his skin.  She was acutely aware of the silence in the room and found the others had disappeared somewhere else in the house.  Not the living room across the way and not near enough for her to hear any of them.  She glanced back to see Rhysand smirking again, his mouth opening to no doubt make some sort of comment she didn’t want to hear.  “I doubt I’ll forget a man that makes hardworking artists cry and accuses someone of stalking him after asking them to come.”

His smirk fell into a frown and so close to his face she saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes.  “I am sorry for that.  Finding the perfect person, finding you, was stressful.  I will admit, I wasn’t as kind as I should have been.”

“You were a prick,” she informed him.

“As you’ve stated many times, and I believe you have been correct,” he assured her.  “I am working on it.”

Feyre blinked at him.  He was admitting to it?  Actually admitting to being a prick?  Not only that, but working on not being a prick.  Never had that happened before.  Normally men she called out on their behavior just lashed out further.  And the one time she had dared to call Nesta a bitch to her face, all hell had broken loose on her.  Only Elain bursting into tears at their fighting had caused Nesta to stop her explosive reaction and reign it in to an icy silent treatment for nearly a year.

“Don’t look so surprised, Darling.  You were right.  I am not incapable of admitting that.”  He cut her that damned smirk again.

“You keep smirking at me like that, and I’m putting hot pink lipstick on you,” she warned.  He looked mock horrified for all of a moment before he flashed her one more smirk.

“I look amazing in hot pink.  Complements my skin tone and eyes nicely, Darling,” he informed her.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Darling’?”  She demanded.  It was not a name he had called her before and yet he kept calling her it as she worked. 

“With your endearing term of ‘Prick’, I thought I’d better come up with a name in return,” he told her, that smirk returning.

“My name is Feyre, you could use that instead,” she drawled.

“Well, if we are going with preferences, I’d prefer to be called Rhys rather than Rhysand or Prick.  But if you have to pick one of those two, please, by all means, go with Prick.”

Feyre let out a startled giggle at the genuine tone he had delivered his preference by.  Something like amusement glittered in his violet eyes in response to her giggle and he raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at her.  She raised one right back.

“You expect me to believe that Prick is more preferred to you than Rhysand?”  She kept the eyebrow raised.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Feyre Darling.  Normally, I would flay anyone that dared to call me a Prick.  Last time Cassian did, we had an all out brawl that broke my lawn chairs out back.  Mor complained for three weeks until I replaced them.”  He rolled his eyes.  “But coming from you, I feel a bit differently about it.  And only those I keep at a distance call me Rhysand.  I have no intention of keeping you at a distance.  In fact, I’d prefer you settle in for the long haul.”  He breathed out the last couple sentences and she felt her cheeks flush.

There was nothing she could say in response.  Nothing that didn’t sound completely idiotic, so she worked in silence finishing what would probably prove to be her masterpiece of the evening.  Rhys let her stay silent as well, his violet eyes trained on her every movement.

“Done,” Feyre told him as she stepped back finally.  Instead of rushing off to see what he looked like, Rhys simply held up his phone and changed the camera to face him.  His golden-brown skin was glowing and glittering as if he had a natural glow about him.  No color but his own skin tone enhanced.  Though, as she looked at him, she longed to paint him up as something darker, more sensual.  The lord of night.

“Exquisite, Darling,” he purred out, lending to the dark image taking hold in her mind.  He opened his mouth to say something else but his eyes went behind her and his jaw fell open for all of a second.  Feyre whirled to see Cassian strut through the open doorway, a sheet wrapped around him in some makeshift dress, and his dark hair curled into perfect ringlets.  Complete with the makeup Feyre had done, he was a stunning drag queen.

“Come on Rhysie!  Tell me I’m pretty and buy me things!”  Cassian begged, his voice in falsetto.

Rhys to his credit seemed just as speechless as Feyre was.  Somewhere up the stairs behind Cassian they could hear Mor cackling, Andi giggling, and Azriel telling Cassian to come back and get the earrings on.

“Come on, Rhysie,” Cassian gripped Rhys’ arm.  “We are getting our hair done upstairs.  Can’t leave you out now that Feyre has made you beautiful.”  He wrenched Rhys up and dragged him towards the stairwell.

“Save me,” Rhys begged over his shoulder but Feyre could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“I think not, Prick,” she grinned at him and stood to follow as far as the staircase to watch Cassian haul Rhys out of sight down the hall.  She heard Rhys’ protesting as she turned to start cleaning up her mess. 

Azriel had done an amazing job finding her products she could use like that ones she was used to.  And she had found it hadn’t been too difficult to transfer her skills of putting makeup on herself to makeup on others.  Either she had been blessed with perfect models to try on the first time, or she really did have some sort of talent.  The voice in her head that sounded far too much like Nesta told her it was the former.  It was something only time would tell her in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this finished and up on Wednesday but plans fell through as I spent the day in the hospital with my husband who needed IV fluids. He is fine. I love comments! They make me want to write more. If you want me to be excited to write more on this, comment.


	6. Chapter 6

Feyre looked up at the front of the building and let out a long sigh.  Again she was wearing her best pencil skirt and blouse, carrying her briefcase with her portfolio inside.  After the initial consultation meeting with Rhys and his team, and the evening she had spent with them, she hadn’t been back with them for nearly three days.  That was three days she had spent at home watching makeup tutorials, trying out new designs, and contemplating the things Rhys had said to her.  But now she was back in front of Night Court Industries having been summoned by Rhys by email to sit through the consultation with the models. 

At least she hadn’t had to take the bus to get there.  Tuesday morning she had woken up to an email from Rhys with a copy of an electronic transfer of funds to her account and a receipt showing where taxes had been removed from the payment.  It seemed Rhys planned on paying her for each consultation separately.  It meant her account had seen a great increase in funds quickly and she hadn’t been able to find an excuse to need to ride the bus when she could easily afford a taxi. 

She glanced up at the building and sighed again.  Not because she had to sit through the consultation.  She was actually excited to do that.  She was actually excited to see Rhys and his team again after she had left them on Monday night shortly after Cassian had insisted Mor paint his nails.  It was that she wasn’t excited to walk through that sterile lobby and face the receptionist.  She was early but she figured she would need to wait for a while for the receptionist to even notice her.

But upon walking through the lobby she noticed it was a completely different receptionist.  This receptionist took one look at her and lifted the phone.

“Mr. Night, Miss Archeron is here.  Of course,” she hung up the phone and offered Feyre a polite smile.  “Mr. Night will be down in a few moments.  He asked if you wouldn’t mind sitting.”  She nodded to the chairs.

“Thank you,” Feyre said to her as she made her way through the lobby.  It was such a different experience that she was a bit taken aback.  Not only had this one known her by sight but also seemed far friendlier. 

She sat for only a couple minutes before Rhys appeared and offered her a smile as he beckoned to her. 

“Thank you, Trisha,” he called back over his shoulder as he led her down the hall.

“That’s not the same receptionist from Monday,” Feyre commented.

“Am I not allowed to have multiple receptionists?”  Rhys asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Of course you are.  I’m just curious on how Trisha knew who I was without me saying my name,” she raised an eyebrow back.

“Trisha is very good at her job,” he informed her.  “The models will be coming in here.  I have other meetings today and Mor informed me I’m supposed to let her do her job, so it will just be you, her, and Cassian.”  Rhys showed her into an open room where several taller chairs sat along with racks of clothing and a screened off area.  “I took the liberty of having coffee delivered for you.”  He nodded to the table against one of the walls.  “Thank you for coming in, Feyre.  I look forward to your notes.”

Feyre watched him leave for a moment, her eyes trailing over the richly tailored suit and how well it fit him especially how his tailored pants fit his muscled butt.  His head turning just slightly back towards her had her admonishing herself and sent her scuttling into the room to avoid him seeing her ogling his behind.

A blush still stained her cheeks as she approached the table where the coffee was.  Instead of to-go cups she found stainless steel tumblers with fine black letters on the sides.  _The General, Queen,_ and _Darling_.

“Ah, I see you’re all official now,” Cassian’s voice came from behind her, making her jump slightly.  He leaned around her, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her, to grab the tumbler with _General_ noted on the side.  “If you don’t know which one is you, I can honestly say he has never called his cousin ‘Darling’.”

“Ew, I would hate to hear Rhys call me that,” Mor came into the room cringing.  “I see you’re official now.  Everyone official gets a nickname from Rhys and you know it’s truly official when it’s printed on a mug.”

Feyre simply shook her head and tasted the coffee that was in her tumbler, letting out a sigh as the coffee hit her tongue.  A few more sips and she turned, ready to face the first model that came through the door.

Four hours and twelve models later, Feyre was in desperate need of another cup of coffee.  She had offered her input as they paired models to outfits and then put more concrete plans on accessories, makeup, and hair styles.  Mor took down extensive notes as they worked so Rhys would be kept up to date.

“Ms. Gold?”  Trisha came to find Mor only minutes after the last model had left.  “Mr. Night has requested your presence once you finished.”

“Thank you… Trisha, right?”  Mor asked with a nod to the receptionist.  “I’m sure he just wants these notes right away.  Thank you for your help, Feyre.  We need to do another girls’ night soon.  Maybe this time without the boys.”  She hurried out after Trisha leaving Feyre alone with Cassian.

“Huh,” Feyre puffed out as Mor left.  “I would have taken Mor as someone who would know the names and life histories of every employee here.”

“Well, you have Mor pegged.  She does know the names and almost everything about every employee at Night.”  Cassian chuckled.

“She doesn’t seem very familiar with Trish,” Feyre pointed out and started to gather her notes she had taken.

“It’s hard to know someone when it’s only their second day.  Mor needs at least a week to commit a person’s entire history to memory and she’s been distracted with this fashion line launch and filling in for the last receptionist,” Cassian informed her with another chuckle.

“Last receptionist?”  Feyre whipped around on Cassian and saw him blush a little. 

“Yeah… um… Rhys fired the last receptionist on Monday afternoon.  We didn’t find out until Tuesday morning when he started interviewing new ones.”  He started to fidget with his notes.

“Why was she fired?”  Feyre could only imagine the reasons off of what she had experienced.  The woman had been unfriendly and unconcerned she had been in the lobby at all.

“Well, honestly,” Cassian rubbed the back of his neck and then met her eyes with his hazel ones.  “He fired her because of you.”

“What?”  Feyre was certain she wasn’t the first person that had come across the unfriendly receptionist, so what about her had made that happen?

“Rhys had been very specific with her about you coming in and him needing to be called right away when you arrived.  After he pulled you out of the lobby himself, I guess he checked the security footage and saw you had been standing there for a bit and she made no attempt to contact him.”  Cassian rubbed the back of his neck again.  “There have been a few times potential clients have come in and were late, all very pretty women.  So you might have just been the final straw this time.  Or he might just have noticed finally because he was trying so hard not to fuck up with you again.  Which is why he has your picture at the front desk now with your name and instructions to call him immediately upon seeing you.”

“You’re joking,” Feyre blushed.  “What photo of me does he even have?”

“Some cellphone photo he took of you on Monday night at his townhouse,” Cassian shrugged.  “Let’s go get lunch.  I’m starving.”

If there was one thing Feyre was learning quickly about Cassian, it was that he had a love of food.  If she learned anything else, it was that he loved his family.  He happily filled their lunch out with stories about his family members until she was stuffed and they were headed back to his car.

“So you’re the General and Mor is Queen.  What is Azriel?”  Feyre asked as Cassian drove her home.

“Rhys dubbed him Shadowsinger because he’s pretty sure that the shadows tell Azriel everyone’s secrets.  And then there is Amren.  You haven’t met her yet.  She’s usually around terrorizing but she’s been visiting her boyfriend this past week.  She’s our legal advisor but she’s got a love of photography and does a great job, so Rhys has her doing the photography for the advertisements.  Rhys calls her Fire Drake because she hoards jewels and looks like she could spit fire at a moment’s notice.”

“No one else has a nickname?”  Feyre asked.

“Rhys doesn’t take to just anyone,” Cassian informed her.  “But then not everyone is comfortable calling him a prick and making him beg on his knees.”  He flashed her a wink as he pulled up in front of her apartment building.  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow evening at 6.  We are going to dinner.”

Feyre wasn’t even inside of her apartment before her phone dinged with an email.  Another receipt from Rhys with her paycheck for the day.  By the time she made it to her door, the phone dinged again with another email.

_Feyre,_

_Excellent work today, as expected.  I have attached your work schedule from here on out.  I have also been informed you’re joining us for dinner tomorrow.  We will be at Sevenda’s on the Sidra again.  I look forward to treating you to a proper dinner this time._

_Rhys_

Feyre simply rolled her eyes and let herself into her apartment.  She was inside for all of a minute before she remembered how underdressed she had felt the last time she had stepped in that restaurant.  With a sigh, she turned around and left her apartment again to find something a little more appropriate to wear.  She didn’t want to feel so out of place again.

The next evening she knew she had made the right decision upon walking into the restaurant.  Cassian had dropped her at the door and had gone to park leaving her to walk in alone.  The same maître d was there and instead of obvious distaste he had shown her before, he offered her a smile.

“Good evening, Miss.  May I help you?”

“She’s with me,” Rhys materialized behind her dressed in his usual tailored black suit. 

“Of course,” the maître d bowed his head briefly.  “Your usual table has been prepared.”

“Thank you,” Rhys bowed his head in return and then offered an arm to Feyre.  “You didn’t take the buses wearing that, did you?”  He asked as he steered her through the elegant tables towards the private room.  Feyre looked down at the dress she had chosen to wear.  It was a fairly modest knee-length cocktail dress with lace elbow length sleeves and the neckline cutting across her collarbones.  The deep violet color had drawn her to it at the store the day before.  Now as she looked at it she realized she had chosen the same color as Rhys’ eyes.  She hoped he didn’t notice but with what she did know about him, he was vain enough to see even that detail.

“So what if I did?”  She asked.  No she wouldn’t have worn this dress on the bus.  Even she would have sprung for a taxi if Cassian hadn’t come to get her.

“There aren’t always the most gentlemanly males on the buses,” Rhys replied, his eyes darkening.  “Let me drive you home tonight.”

“That’s alright, I—”

“Feyre, I insist.  I’d prefer knowing you made it home safe and I promise that it’s simply a ride home,” he stopped her inside of the private room and turned her to face him.  “Please.”  The word almost sounded foreign to him and she bet it was hard for him to have to ask for things when they seemed to just be given to him.

“I didn’t take the bus here.  Cassian drove me and he planned to drive me home too.”  Feyre rolled her eyes and moved to take a seat but Rhys stopped her by gripping her hand.

“Please tell me that Cassian has not been driving you around,” he almost looked frightened.

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” Feyre put her hands on her hips.  “And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“He’s just worried because Cassian is on his second car this year already.  He totaled the first one within a month of getting it.  Last year he totaled four of them,” Azriel said from a seat at a table.  She almost jumped because she had been certain he hadn’t been there before but he couldn’t have walked past them without her noticing either.

“And Cassian is likely to get himself drunk enough tonight that Az will be driving him home,” Rhys cut in.  “I’ll give you a ride.”

“I honestly doubt he’s going to get drunk.  He was planning his music playlist for the ride home with all the songs he thinks I just have to hear,” Feyre moved past Rhys to sit down.

“Fine, I’ll leave the offer open in case I’m right.  But I’ll remind you, it’s a Friday and Cassian and Mor like to let loose as soon as the weekend hits.”  Rhys moved to sit next to her.  “I’d get a good look at the drink menu before Mor gets here and takes it away.”

Much to Feyre’s dislike, Rhys hadn’t been wrong about Cassian.  He likely had drank a full bottle of bourbon by himself at the end of the night and he and Mor were pestering Azriel about going dancing.  Mor even turned her eyes on Feyre after Azriel agreed but the food had been too good and she was too full to even think of dancing.  It was more likely she was going to throw up if she shook herself up too much.

“But I need to drive Feyre home!”  Cassian stood as the meal ended and Mor tried to drag him out.  How he was even standing was a question Feyre would reserve for another day.  How Mor was even standing after three bottles of wine to herself impressed her just as much.

“I’ll bring her home,” Rhys assured him, offering his arm to Feyre.  She would have to take him up on his offer after all unless she wanted to wait for a taxi and she certainly didn’t want to do that when she didn’t have to.  She may have money now but she didn’t want to spend it needlessly.

“You just want your precious Feyre Darling all to yourself so you can tell her how exquisite she is again,” Cassian gave an obnoxious wink that made Rhys groan and Feyre blush. 

“Leave the lovebirds alone and we can go dance!”  Mor dragged on Cassian’s arm.  Azriel trailed behind them looking like this was completely normal and yet still tiring.

“Well, Feyre Darling, shall I pull the car around?”  Rhys asked when the others were out of sight. 

“I can walk to the car,” she insisted but Rhys let go of her arm at the door.

“I’ll be right around, Darling,” he promised her.  Then he ran out the door before she could think much of chasing him down without it being completely awkward.  So she stood in the lobby feeling strange as the maître d and other people waiting for tables watched her.  Every few seconds she would hear snippets of the hushed conversations around her and she realized they were talking about her as she heard the word ‘darling’ and ‘Mr. Night’ repeated again and again while looks stripped her bare.  She tried not to feel self-conscious about her hair, her makeup, her dress, or the way she was standing. 

Without trying her mind focused in on the conversations and looks rather than on the door so she missed Rhys pulling his very expensive car up to the spot in front of the door, or him getting out, until he was standing in front of her once more, his hand brushing her arm slightly. 

“Are you ready to go home?”  He asked softly, drawing her eyes up to his.

From somewhere behind her she heard someone let out a shrill gasp.  “Oh Mother!  They live together?!” It was followed by excited whispering that had Feyre straining her ears but unable to catch any of it.

Rhys offered his arm but the flash in his eyes told her he had heard it as well.  Feyre swore she saw a camera flash as he held open the car door for her but she couldn’t be sure until Rhys got into his own seat.  He was silent as he turned on the car again and began to drive.  She almost thought he’d be silent the whole drive until he pulled over on a seemingly random residential side street and turned off the car.  He stared straight ahead and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles began to turn white.

“This isn’t where you kill me, is it?”  Feyre asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“What?”  Rhys head whipped around to look at her.  Then he seemed to crumple in on himself and finally pried his hands from the steering wheel, only to rub his face.  “I’m sorry, Feyre,” he breathed out.

“Whatever for?”  She frowned trying to figure out exactly what had caused this particular reaction.  “Cassian not being able to drive me home?”

“No,” Rhys sighed again and faced her.  “Your picture is going to be all over the news in a couple of hours.  I didn’t think my actions through and now it’s going to be you that gets the attention.”

“Huh?”  Feyre tried to follow but she wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.

“I don’t date, or I haven’t in a very long time.  That little fact is something that seems to catch the interest of many people.  Rhysand Night, the infamous bachelor.  They like to theorize about things, mainly if I’m attracted to men or not since women aren’t normally around me except Mor and Amren, or if I’m sneaking around with women.  It hits the news once every few months, usually tabloids.  Men I’ve supposedly been with or women I’ve been seen talking to.  It never pans out to being anything and they lose interest again after a day or so without any actual evidence.  I’ve gotten too used to just ignoring it that I didn’t think of the implications of calling you ‘Darling’ or driving you myself.”  He turned to look out the window.  “One of the women in there was a reporter named Ianthe.  She made some advances on me a few years ago and when I turned her down, she made it her mission to expose whatever love life I had or she imagined I had.  She’s going to have your face, possibly your name, all over the news at least by the morning if not tonight.  I’ll try to set Amren on it but it’s not likely she can do much to stop things, so I’m sorry.”

Feyre blinked at him.  No, she didn’t want to have her face all over the media though she had never really paid the media any mind before.  She wasn’t one to watch the news or pick up a newspaper.  Sometimes she scanned magazine covers while waiting in line at the grocery store for little bits of gossip.  And now that she thought of that, she doubted it would really affect her life much at all.  Likely it would affect Rhys more than her, apparently dating some nobody.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Feyre tried to brush off his concerns.  “Any way we can’t stop it now so we might as well go home.”

Rhys turned to face her again and flashed her a cocky smirk.  “I suppose I should ask, since we are living together now, am I taking you to that dilapidated apartment or would you like to come share my very nice king sized bed in my townhouse?”  He wiggled his eyebrows in suggestion and she laughed despite the obvious flirt.  Whatever tension had been in the car before was gone.

“Take me to my home, Prick.  Then you go to your home, alone,” she snorted when he made a noise of mock hurt.

“My bed will be so cold and lonely without my new girlfriend.  However will I get by?”  He put the car in drive and set off again.

“Somehow I think you’ll get by just fine,” she rolled her eyes and shared a laugh with him.

Fifteen minutes later she was outside of her apartment slipping out of the car, thanking Rhys for the ride.  He offered her another cocky smirk and opened his mouth.  She closed the car door before whatever dirty words he was forming escaped his mouth.  That damned mouth that had her thinking about that horribly sexy smirk all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been trying to get this up for a few weeks. Sorry for the delay. Whenever I have 'promised' writing time, I get about 3 sentences to a paragraph in before I'm bombarded. As always, I love your comments, kudos, and everything else! I always look forward to seeing your thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

It was worse than she ever thought.  Her phone had started ringing at 6 AM the next morning.  Blurry eyed she had answered, wondering who would even think of calling her so early on a Saturday.  She had expected Cassian because even hung over she doubted he’d sleep in.  She could half have thought it would be Mor or even Rhys.  A thought crossed her mind that it might be one of her sisters.  Anything except—

“Miss Archeron, you’re live on the air of the Prythian City News early morning show.  Last night your secret relationship with business tycoon Rhysand Night was exposed.  This morning our viewers are dying to know, who is the man behind the dark mask?”

“Excuse me?”  Feyre pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the number.  If it was a prank call from Cassian or someone else, she wasn’t certain.  She didn’t know the number.

“What is Rhysand like in bed?”  Came a question from another, shriller voice.  “I’ll bet he likes to favor chains and whips.”

Feyre hung up and got up to turn on her television.  She was never one to watch the morning news, or any news for that matter, so it took her a few moments to find the correct channel.  Sure enough, two bottle blonde women in expensive suits, sipping coffee were sitting in armchairs in front of the picture of her taken the night before.

“Well, it appears Miss Archeron appeared to have lost phone signal.  Let’s try to get her back.”  The younger of the two women, the one with the shriller voice, flashed a saccharine smile at the screen. 

Almost immediately her phone began to ring again with the same number.  She sent it to voicemail.  A second number, then a third tried as she stared at the screen, at the picture where Rhys was giving her a somewhat tender look as she got into the passenger seat of his car.  The caption under the picture on the screen read _Rhysand Night’s secret relationship with Feyre Archeron revealed._   She set the phone to silent as it began to ring again.

“Miss Archeron’s phone seems to be out of order for the time being.  As I was saying earlier, I personally saw them out to dinner last night.  Had her all tucked back in a private room with his business associates, likely trying to disguise her as one of his work partners.  It’s likely how he’s been hiding his relationship with her all along.  His slip up though, was calling her a pet name and revealing to everyone they lived together.  Oh, it looks like we have a call in!  Perhaps it’s Miss Archeron!  You’re live on the air of the Prythian City News early morning show.”

Feyre sat on her threadbare couch with her hand over her mouth as call after call came in.  People speculating on their relationship and how Rhys had been disguising it.  People claiming to have seen them out and about in compromising situations.  People criticizing her looks, her dress, her handbag, her shoes.  She knew she should turn off the show but she couldn’t.  Each caller made her feel a little more self-conscious and blush a little deeper.

“We’re going to take one last call and then try Miss Archeron for comment once more.  You’re live on the air of Prythian City News early morning show.”

“Your show is a load of bull shit,” Feyre heard a familiar voice and felt herself go red.  Of all the people to call in with those words, she had expected one of Rhys’ friends, perhaps Nesta.  But not—

“I’m sorry, who is this?”  The younger woman looked slightly stunned.

“My name is Lucien and I used to employ Feyre.  She recently quit to pursue a career as a make up artist, hired by Mr. Night.  People watch the news for actual news, not this sorry gossip show.  The network should fire you for spreading lies and pointless gossip.  No one with a brain cares about Rhysand Night’s relationships or lack thereof.  The only reason you care is he wouldn’t date you when you threw yourself at him—”

The line went dead and Feyre was certain the younger news anchor had signaled to have him shut up somehow. 

“Well, let’s try that number again,” the anchor tried and Feyre looked to where her phone had lit up again, silently displaying the number.  When it went to voicemail and she saw not just the five missed calls but something like thirty in addition to voicemails, and nearly fifty text messages.  She opened her message box and scanned through the names.  Mor had sent her nearly twenty texts and Cassian wasn’t far behind.  There were several from some numbers she didn’t know.  Then she saw one from Nesta.  She went to open it as the phone began to ring again and someone knocked hard on the front door at the same time.  The number matched the one that had been calling her so she went to the door and peeked out the peephole.

“Feyre Archeron!  You open this door right now!”  Nesta snapped on the other side jiggling the handle.  She unlocked the door just as it was thrust open.  Nesta swept past her in an icy rage, her eyes darting to the television and then to the phone.  She picked up the phone and answered it.

“Hello?”  Nesta’s cruel voice echoed on the television.

“Oh!  It looks like Miss Archeron has service again.  We got cut off earlier, Feyre—”

“This is not Feyre.  This is harassment.  If you do not cease and desist, you’ll find much worse things to fear than your roots showing and being caught in a completely out of style suit.  I can’t believe they let you on television looking that tacky.  Do not call again.”  She hung up the phone and slammed it down on the table.  She stared at the phone for a moment as the television suddenly cut to a commercial.  The phone did not ring again.

“Nesta, I—” Feyre made to thank her sister but her head whipped around at Feyre’s voice and her eyes narrowed instead.

“What the hell is going on?  I wake up this morning to your picture and name all over the damned news.  Then I find this shitty show talking about your sex life.”

“Nesta, I—”

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

“Excuse me?”  Feyre gaped at her sister.

“Are. You. A. Fucking. Idiot?”  Nesta over enunciated each word.  “It’s a simple question.  ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT SLEEPING WITH HER BOSS OR NOT?”  Nesta shouted and Feyre heard someone bang on the wall of the neighboring apartment, likely displeased by the noise.  “MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!”  She shouted at the wall but her icy eyes stayed on Feyre.

“Nesta, I’m not—”

“Not smart enough to realize the shit storm you’ve thrown yourself into?  Too stupid to understand the consequences of being caught like that?  I always knew you weren’t as smart as Elain or me, but this just proves you lack a brain completely.  As long as this media circus is focused on you, you don’t have a family because I don’t need this and Elain certainly doesn’t need this.”  Then she was leaving and slamming the door behind her. 

Feyre sunk to her couch again, stunned.  Nesta had always been brutally honest about her thoughts, especially her thoughts on her youngest sister so Feyre should have been expecting this.  But this had struck low and she felt a burn in her throat.  She bit back her tears and the urge to cry.  It wasn’t as if she had ever felt like much a part of the close knit sisterhood her two elder sisters had established well before she was born.  With her parents gone and her sisters distant, it wasn’t as if she really felt like she had much of a family to begin with, but being told she didn’t even have what little cobwebs of connection with them because someone was spreading rumors about her was a stabbing pain in her chest.

  Her phone lit up again and she wondered if she was some sort of masochist as she pulled it over to herself.  Another message from Cassian and she opened it.  At the end of a long line of ‘Are you okay?’s and ‘Answer me!’s was a simple: ‘We’re on our way to get you.’

She just stared at her phone.  Her own sisters didn’t want anything to do with her but there was Cassian seemingly concerned.  A glance at the texts from Mor showed much of the same.  Just as she was starting to feel a little better she saw the other texts from numbers she didn’t know.  Three of those texts called her a whore flat out.  The other two were threats of bodily harm to her if she didn’t get her boyfriend to agree to their deals.  They even attached pictures of her apartment building so she knew they knew where she lived.

A quiet knock on the door set Feyre’s heart racing.  She debated not opening the door because of the threats but then the handle turned.  She hadn’t relocked the door after Nesta had left. 

“Feyre?  Darling?”  She heard Rhys’ voice before the door opened enough to reveal him.  He looked oddly out of place in his designer jeans, immaculate button-down black shirt, and expensive shoes against the crumbling walls and cracked laminate floors.  Behind him came Cassian and Mor.  “Are you alright?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Feyre’s voice croaked out and she realized she hadn’t succeeded in keeping herself from crying.

“I don’t care what people think,” Rhys started but Feyre shook her head.  She held out the phone.  He came forward and stared down at the screen at one of the threatening messages.  “Ah.  That’s a lovely message.  Are there others?”

“One,” Feyre admitted.

“Not likely to stop there,” Rhys took her phone and turned to Cassian who quickly looked it over.  “I think Az could track these.  We were coming because we thought you could use some positive company, but I’m thinking plans have to change.”  He passed her phone to Mor who gave a disapproving click of her tongue.

“Oh!  I know!”  Mor started to bounce.  “Let’s have a fun weekend of movie marathons!  You can come to the townhouse and stay in the spare bedroom!  Come on, let’s pack up some of your things.”  She ushered Feyre away into the small bedroom.  “And while I love the shorts and bralette look, perhaps you want to change into some actual clothes before we go outside.”

Feyre looked down at her sleep attire she had thrown on the night before after arriving home, shorts and a soft lace bralette.  In everything that had happened she hadn’t even realized she had been wearing so little.  And then it struck her doubly as hard that Rhys and Cassian had seen her wearing so little.  Rhys had seen her in the leave-nothing-to-the-imagination bralette she was wearing.  Her cheeks and neck flushed unbearably hot as she snatched a pair of jeans and a sweater from the dresser to pull on. 

By the time she was dressed, Mor had packed up more than a weekend’s worth of clothing into a duffel bag and all of her makeup into her makeup kit.  She looked around the room once more with a frown.

“I know Rhys is paying you well.  Have you not spent any of it?”  Mor demanded.

“Were you expecting a closet full of designer clothes?”  Feyre folded her arms.  “I might get paid well but that doesn’t mean I have to go out and buy all new things when what I have is just fine.”

“Oh, Honey,” Mor shook her head and opened the bedroom door.  “I have to teach you the joys of clothes shopping.”

“Don’t worry, Feyre, if she starts talking designer bags with you, I’ll save you.  And Andi is very good at distracting her if she goes off the deep end,” Cassian promised, slinging an arm around her shoulders to steer her back into the living room.  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but do I detect Nesta’s perfume?  Was she over this morning?”

“Don’t you keep tabs on your girlfriend?”  Feyre asked, not wanting to tell him why Nesta had been over.

“One, she isn’t my girlfriend despite whatever I want.  I’m hoping to change her mind.  Two, I wouldn’t keep tabs on her or any woman I was dating because that is a horrible way to have a relationship,” Cassian flicked her nose. 

“As wonderful as this conversation is, we can have it in the car,” Rhys told them, holding the door open.  “Feyre, may I keep hold of your phone until we can track these messages?”  He was smiling at her but a flash of something in his violet eyes told her they would do better to get moving immediately. 

Within a minute they were in Rhys’ car and speeding away from her apartment and she could almost feel Rhys breathe a sigh of relief as they turned out of sight of the crumbling building though she was behind him in the backseat.  If Mor sitting next him noticed or Cassian, beside her, noticed, they said nothing.  Instead Mor started arguing with Cassian about which movies they should watch.  And as they neared the townhouse Feyre had been to once before, Mor had what she decided was an amazing idea.

“If you’re sleeping with Feyre’s sister we should meet her too!  You should invite her over to watch movies!”  Mor was practically bouncing in her seat.

“I don’t think she’ll care much for a movie marathon,” Cassian shot Feyre a look she read too clearly.  Nesta would think it was a waste of time. 

“Call her!”  Mor demanded.

Cassian let out a long suffering sigh and pulled out his phone to dial Nesta’s number.  “Hey Nes.  My family wants to have a movie marathon this weekend.  We just picked up Feyre to join us and they were hoping you would—” Cassian stopped talking and Feyre could hear the rise and fall of Nesta’s voice on the other end of the phone but couldn’t make out a single word.  Cassian’s eyes started to blaze and he flashed her one glance before adding an, “I see,” to Nesta.  “Well, good luck with that Sweetheart.  Call me when you find your heart again.”  He hung up the phone.  His jaw clenched as he sat in the echoing silence after the conversation.  Feyre was grateful neither Rhys nor Mor decided to ask about it.

Mor waited all of a minute of uncomfortable silence before she pulled out her own phone and started texting.  After another minute she turned to smile back at Feyre.  “Andi is bringing wine and enough chocolate to drown in.  And, of course, other essentials that Rhysand doesn’t keep around.  He’s too health conscious sometimes.”

“With how often we eat out, I’d think you’d be more health conscious at home as well, Morrigan,” Rhys replied.  Feyre could hear him rolling his eyes even as she saw Mor roll hers.  Cassian kept silent, staring out his window with his phone clenched in his hand.

When they pulled into the driveway of the townhouse, Mor hopped out and practically skipped in through the front door.  Rhys followed carrying Feyre’s bag.  Feyre was about to follow him in through the door when Cassian gripped her hand.  He pulled her out of the way of the door and opened his mouth before promptly closing it again.  Then he drew her into a tight hug.

“Don’t let her get to you.  You always have a family here,” Cassian murmured in her ear.  He let her go after a long moment and steered her inside.

Rhys was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, still holding her bag.  He gave her a tight smile.  “I’ll show you to the guest room so you can settle in before Andi gets here from her and Mor’s place.”

The words struck her and Feyre paused two steps behind Rhys as he led her to the upper level.  Something Mor had said in the car rang through her mind as well as she looked around.  “This isn’t Mor’s place?”

“She lived with me for a while and she’s over often enough I’m sure she still thinks it’s hers, but since she moved in with Andi, I’m the only one that actually lives here.”  Rhys turned to look at her.  “Are you opposed to staying here knowing it’s my home and not hers?”

Feyre blinked up at him.  Besides giving the media whatever more proof they needed if she was staying in his home for the weekend, she wasn’t truly opposed to it.  “Not at all.  I’m just surprised.  Mor invited me here the other night so I thought she lived here.”

“All of my family has keys so they just invite themselves in whenever.  I’ve come home plenty of times to parties that I wasn’t aware of so I’m honestly not surprised anymore.  I may be the only one that actually lives here, but in the past month alone, I’ve spent maybe two evenings without company.”  Rhys offered her a small smile.  “The guest room is up here.”

He opened the door to a room that was bigger than her entire living room and kitchen in her apartment.  A bed with fluffy white bedding took up the center of one wall, facing large windows that looked out over a garden behind the townhouse.  A full four-piece luxury bathroom and a walk-in closet bordered the bed.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.  I’m sure I have it laying around somewhere,” Rhys told her and then left. 

Feyre took all of a few minutes to get her duffle bag set on a chair near the bathroom and then wandered back down the stairs where Mor and Cassian were halfway done making a pillow fort out of the living room.  It wasn’t long before Andi arrived with enough junk food for an army of teenagers and the movie marathon began.

It was late when Feyre finally stumbled up to her bed, leaving Mor and Andi asleep on one side of the pillow fort and Cassian snoring loudly on the other side.  Rhys had magically disappeared sometime between the start of the last movie and the end of it when Feyre had realized she was the only one awake.

It was later still when she woke in the dark room feeling uneasy in her gut.  Deciding she needed some water, she crept down the stairs to the kitchen, still hearing snoring in the living room.  She had expected the kitchen lights to be off but they were on and bright against the darkness of the rest of the house.  And the kitchen wasn’t empty of life either.  Rhys sat with Azriel at the kitchen island, her phone sitting on the counter between them.  Azriel, sat still wearing a jacket while Rhys looked like he had come from bed wearing a t-shirt and lounge pants.

“She can’t go back there, Rhys.  It isn’t safe and not just because the building is falling apart,” Azriel’s low voice carried through the kitchen to where she stood in the door.

“I know,” Rhys sighed.  “But I’m not exactly sure how to tell her.  She barely tolerates me as it is and now with the rumor mill saying she’s dating me causing all of this—”

“You barely got her out of there in time today.  I’m sure anyone looking to target you for money will be watching for her to come back,” Azriel’s voice went even lower.

Feyre took a step back away from the light of the kitchen and then another.  She knew she wasn’t silent as she made her way back up to the guest room.  Her mind was on other things.  On the look in Rhys’ eyes that had told her they had needed to leave quickly and on the breath of relief that had escaped him as they had gotten out of view of her apartment.  She curled up in the bed, drawing the blanket tight around her. 

It was so much worse than she had thought it would be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortish chapter

Feyre woke feeling groggy and in an unfamiliar room.  It took her a moment to remember where she was as she shucked off the heavy down comforter and shuffled into the bathroom.  In the shower she remembered the words she had heard pass between Rhys and Azriel the night before, wondering what she had been saved from.  Some part of her brain wanted to stay ignorant of it.  If she didn’t know, it couldn’t give her nightmares.  But the wiser part of her brain told her she’d likely have nightmares anyway and it was smarter to know what she was up against.

She dried her hair, braided it, and stuffed herself into some clothes before opening her door.  Immediately she went on alert.  The house was silent.  Utterly silent in a way that felt eyrie in a way she couldn’t quite touch.  Without her phone, which Rhys or Azriel still had, and with no clock in the room she had been in, she wasn’t aware of the time, but Mor and Andi were there.  Cassian was there.  They had all fallen asleep there.  And she knew that Andi could likely be quiet, but the other two had to make noise wherever they went.  The silence was disconcerting in a way their loud personalities would have been comforting. 

Coming down the stairs, her eyes immediately went to the living room where no evidence of the fort remained and every last crumb had been removed.  No wine glasses sat out, no tumblers of scotch, no cushions remotely out of place.  There was no evidence of Mor, or Andi, or Cassian sleeping in the living room either.  How late was it?

The dining room was similarly as empty so she wandered down the hall until she made it to the kitchen.  Here, at least, there was life.  Rhys sat in the same place as he had the night before, her phone sitting on the counter in front of him while he read the newspaper.  The only evidence he had moved from the night before was that he was back in jeans and t-shirt instead of lounge pants and his hair looked like there was a little more order to it.  She glanced past him to the clock on the wall and frowned.  It was nearly noon.

“Good morning, Darling,” Rhys spoke without even looking up at her.  “Would you like breakfast?”

“Isn’t it more time for lunch than for breakfast?”  She asked, trying to find some sort of normalcy.

“For those of us that have already been awake and have eaten, yes.  For you, it’s breakfast.  He stood and stretched before looking at her.  “What can I make for you?”

For a moment Feyre considered teasing him by asking him to make something very complicated just to see if he possibly could.  Something told her he was either an amazing cook or could barely manage toast.  It would be one or the other with no in between and while she had reason to doubt he was some sort of amazing cook, she didn’t wish to underestimate him and be proven wrong.  “Do you have any cereal?”  She asked.

Rhys seemed to let out a sigh of relief and walked around the counter to produce a deep cereal bowl, a spoon, several boxes off different cereals, and a container of milk.

“I was really hoping you weren’t going to ask for something hard,” he admitted when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did you think that I would?”  She was curious as she sat down at the counter.  How well did he know her already?

“I wouldn’t have put it past you,” he let out a soft chuckle.  “You want the cook in the family, it’s Cassian.  He loves his food and loves making his food.”

“Could have fooled me with how often he takes me out to eat,” she quipped back.  Rhys let out another chuckle but it died down as her phone chimed again.  A glance at Rhys showed Feyre his eyes had gained a wariness far beyond his years.  “Be honest with me.  How bad is it?”  Rhys’ violet eyes flicked to her and back to the phone again.

“Bad enough,” he sighed but didn’t elaborate more.  “I’ll be right back.”  He left but didn’t take the phone with him.  Curiosity overtook her and she made to grab the phone but her eyes snagged on the paper instead on the bold headline and the picture under.

 _Apartment Building Burns Down in Middle of Night._ It was her building pictured.  A quick glance at the article showed the fire department suspected arson, a few injured residents, and two dead.  No names had been released but one was a young man and the other was an elderly woman.  She knew who they were without the names, not that she had ever known their names, but they had been her neighbors on either side of her since she had moved in. 

Her phone chimed again and she looked at it to see another message from a number she didn’t know.  It was a picture of her charred apartment building.  It simply said “You’re next if you don’t get your boyfriend to cooperate”.  And she lost her appetite.  She pushed the bowl away as it started to sink in that her home was destroyed along with any belongings she hadn’t brought with her.  Worse was that her neighbors had both paid the price for her.  They had been crappy neighbors and it was a crappy apartment, but it had been her home and they had had their own lives suddenly cut short.

“Feyre?”  Rhys’ voice was soft.  She looked up at him and realized she had been staring into her bowl of cereal.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered looking between the newspaper and her phone once more.  “How do you deal with something like this?”

“Me, personally, or anyone in general?”  Rhys took up his seat next to her.

“You, personally.”  She decided.  She doubted most people had to deal with this in any sort of capacity.

“Well, if I was in your position, I would first get a new phone number and have it listed as private.  Then I would find a better place to live with more restricted access.  Replace things that have been destroyed.  Bundle up this phone and texts to give to the police.”  He rubbed a hand over his face.

“At least I have a full bank account to consider doing any of that.  Had this happened a month ago, I would be out on the street,” Feyre murmured.

“That’s not funny,” Rhys informed her.

“No, it’s not,” she shrugged.  “How do I go about getting a new number and having it listed at private?”

Rhys stared at her as if he were trying to read her mind or decide on something difficult.  She couldn’t figure out which it was.  She was just about to ask her question again when he grimaced.  “I was really hoping Cassian and Az would be back for this conversation.”

“The ‘What do I do now?’ conversation?”  Feyre asked, frowning as well.

“I know you get on well with Cassian, so I thought he would smooth things over.  And Az is getting your phone taken care of.  He’s… very good at that sort of thing.”  Rhys straightened and looked at her.  “I know you heard some last night when Az and I were talking.  You obviously can’t go home and until you find a new place, my home is open to you.  You know Mor and Andi will gladly take you shopping.”  He paused and looked her over again as if debating how much more he could say.  “And because this is my fault, I will pay for it.  It was my carelessness that led to this so it should be me paying for it.  You shouldn’t have to use your hard-earned money to correct my mistakes.”

Feyre almost laughed at the thought.  The money was barely hard-earned.  Most of it was her just showing up and making a killing for being present.  Beyond that, in reality, Rhys would be the one paying for everything because everything she had earned had come from him.  Therefore he was paying for it all one way or another.  When she mentioned as much to him, he gave her a wry smile.

“Well, we can just skip the middle step of me depositing the money into your account then,” he informed her.  “How well are you set for clothes and basic necessities?”

They talked about what had all come with her for only a few minutes before Azriel arrived and set a very shiny new smartphone down in front of her.  Rhys disappeared while Azriel sat down to give her the new phone number attached to the phone and started to list the security features.  Once he was done explaining those, he went on to talk about the other features he had made sure the phone had, including a top of the line camera for her to be able to take pictures of her work with.

“Oh, Mother Bless Me!  Rhysand did not make you eat cereal, did he?”  Cassian’s voice came from behind them, interrupting Azriel’s lengthy set of instructions on how to transfer over her pictures and any contacts she wanted to keep. 

“We have been practically brothers since we were ten and you call me Rhysand now?”  Rhys demanded from behind Cassian.

“Only when you fail to feed people properly.  What sort of barbarian are you?”  Cassian demanded glaring at Rhys.  “Feyre, Darling,” his voice curled around the word as he flashed a look back to Rhys at the use of her nickname.  “I will make you a proper breakfast.”

It was easy to forget why they were there as Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian fell into a sort of push and pull teasing that could only mark them as brothers.  It was a side of them that Feyre had never seen fully and made her realize she would never have that with her sisters, if she even still had sisters.  Nesta had been so adamant she didn’t have family now with this storm brewing over her. 

A new thought dawned on her.  It didn’t matter to other people if she barely spoke to either of her sisters.  It wouldn’t matter to others if her sisters had cut off contact with her.  They would be perfect bargaining chips because even after everything, she would still do anything for them.

“Are my sisters safe?”  She blurted out the thought without any mind to whatever conversation was going on around her.  All three men halted mid laugh, sobering immediately as they turned their eyes to her.  “I mean, if I’m a bargaining chip to get to Rhys, would they be a bargaining chip to get to me?”

“I’d honestly pay good money to watch someone go toe to toe with Nesta,” Cassian said finally.

“Your sisters have police watching their homes and following them when they leave.  I mentioned them when I reported the threats to the police this morning,” Azriel assured her.

“Do they know they are being watched?”  Feyre asked.  She doubted it would help her case much with Nesta to have police following her.

“I’m sure they were told,” Rhys moved to pat her hand.  Then he turned back to speak to Azriel.

Feyre still felt eyes on her though and looked up to see Cassian assessing her.  He gave her a thorough once over before turning back to his cooking.  It seemed like whatever was behind that look wasn’t something she was going to hear.  Especially as the front door opened once more and she could hear Mor calling back to them over the very loud rustling of bags and Andi calling over all of it. 

“I’m sorry Feyre, I tried to reign her in as much as possible!”

“Why don’t you go join them in the dining room and I’ll bring your plate out to you when it’s ready,” Cassian told her with a nod to the door. 

Feyre wandered down the hall to the dining room, ignoring the whispered conversations that started behind her as she left the kitchen.  It was far easier to forget the conversations that might be being had by the men as she saw the mountain of shopping bags Mor had set out on the table and was unloading piece by piece.

“What is this?”  Feyre asked.

“Well, I know your apartment burned down last night and I thought about taking you shopping so I went to do a little scouting,” Mor announced, a bright smile on her face.

“This is scouting?”  Feyre waved at the bags and clothes being unloaded.

“No,” Andi rolled her eyes.  “This was Mor seeing something she thought was totally you and couldn’t help herself… about a hundred times over.”

“There was more, but Andi told me I had to carry it all myself,” Mor pretended to pout.  “Some girlfriend you are.”  She stuck a tongue out at Andi and then turned back to Feyre.  “I got a sense of your style from working with you and from helping you pack yesterday.  But if you don’t like anything, you won’t hurt my feelings.  We can take anything back and go shopping for more!”

 The boys joined them after a few minutes and she heard Rhys laugh outright at the piles of clothing Feyre was sorting through.  Mor flipped a rude gesture at her cousin before noticing the plate of food Cassian was setting down.  She ushered Feyre into a seat with a smile.  “We will show you everything and you can simply tell us yes or no while you eat.”

To Feyre’s surprise, there were far fewer no’s than she would have guessed.  Mor really did seem to have a handle on her style.  A few skirts that were too short and a few very low cut shirts ended up in the no pile while an entire wardrobe ended up in the yes pile. 

She was almost done eating when Rhys reached for the last bag on the table to open for her to look over.  His violet eyes went wide as he gazed into the bag and his cheeks flushed red as he shoved the bag in Mor’s direction.  Mor burst out laughing and Feyre craned her neck to see if there was a shop name on the bag.  There wasn’t.

“I wasn’t intending on you looking at these in a room full of males,” Mor informed her as she passed over the bag.  Feyre glanced inside and her own cheeks flushed at the very visible lacy scraps that passed for underwear that filled the bag.  Fully mortified by the fact Rhys had looked into the bag, Feyre tucked it away like she had been caught stealing it.

“We will help you take this all upstairs,” Andi announced, gathering up a bunch of clothing in her arms.  Mor gathered up another armload.  Before Feyre could even think to protest, Cassian had taken her empty plate and had disappeared back into the kitchen with Azriel and Rhys.

It seemed Mor believed Feyre was moving in with Rhys as she and Andi set about putting everything on hangers and organizing the closet with both new clothing and the clothes she had brought.  They weren’t content until Feyre had set out her entire makeup kit on the vanity and her bag was completely emptied and stashed under the bed.  And as Andi and Mor laid on her bed helping her figure out what more she needed between playful banter, Feyre found herself settling in like this actually was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always looking for comments, constructive criticism, ideas, extra praise because who doesn't like to hear people like what they did. Also comments make my day and make me want to keep writing.


	9. Chapter 9

Come Monday morning, Feyre was fully stocked on anything she might have ever thought to need including her own bedding and towels, which Mor had insisted upon.  Not that the towels, sheets and blankets that Rhys had offered were anything short of luxurious, but Feyre was learning that if Mor insisted, it was almost best just to let her.  It wasn’t as if Mor would every truly push her or guilt her, but she would debate her case until either Feyre told her to stop or until Feyre broke.  In the hours they had spent shopping together, Feyre had learned that Mor would quickly back down if Feyre was serious about telling her no.

With the constant presence of Rhys, Mor, Andi, Cassian, and Azriel for the entire day, Feyre slowly let the anxiety about those messages fall to the back of her mind.  Shopping with Mor had been an education but Andi had been a nice balance alongside Cassian who claimed he had only come to carry the bags.  Feyre had suspected, and Andi had confirmed, that Cassian had come to protect her should anyone think to harass her.  He also had been on hand when she had texted her sisters with her new number and saw the scathing response from Nesta and a lack of response from Elain.  He successfully distracted her from the low mood that had brought by telling her where she should accidentally leave some lacy underwear to give poor Rhys a heart attack.  She considered it briefly as that cocky smirk was back when they had come back from shopping but decided it would probably only encourage him in the end.

There was nothing for Feyre to do at the offices for the day, so Feyre found herself left behind in Rhys’ townhouse with instructions to make herself at home when she had gotten up to see him off.  She had been introduced to the housekeepers, Nuala and Cerridwen, before Rhys had left and they seemed decent enough for all she couldn’t tell the twin women apart.

After eating breakfast, scrolling through her new phone for an hour, and playing around with her makeup to try out some new products Mor had found for her the day before, Feyre found herself somewhat bored.  Another mindless scroll through social media distracted her slightly until her eyes landed on an advertisement on the side banner of her screen hatching a brilliant plan.

Preparing herself took little effort with the plethora of very nice clothes and she was ready by the time the cab she had called arrived.

An hour later, Feyre held two wrapped boxes in a giftbag as she walked up the front steps of Night Court Industries.  With a wicked grin on her face she just couldn’t wipe away, Feyre approached the receptionist.

“Ms. Archeron, you don’t have an appointment today, do you?”  She asked, her hand already drifting to the phone.  Her eyes were frantically scanning the computer screen in front of her.

“No.  I have a gift for Mr. Night that I thought he might like to have here,” Feyre nodded to the bag in her hand and saw the receptionist nod her understanding. 

“Mr. Night is in a meeting right now,” the receptionist bit her lip, seeming to debate about calling Rhys out of his meeting, her fingers still hovering over the phone.

“No need to disturb him.  I can find his office on my own if you let me back,” Feyre offered the receptionist her best smile.  She hesitated all of a moment before jerking her head towards the door.  “Thank you,” Feyre waved to her and went down the hall that she had seen Rhys come from each time he had come to get her from the lobby. 

Reading plaques on doors, Feyre wandered thinking that perhaps she would need to go to another floor to find Rhys’ office.  She had already left a silly note inside, explaining exactly what she had done incase he was too dense to get it. 

“Do you believe _me_ to be a _fucking idiot_?”  An all too familiar voice rose as she stopped short of a conference room.  Rhys was… well, not yelling exactly but his tone sent a horrid shiver down her spine. 

It reminded her all too well of the man that had told her her work wasn’t good enough for him and the man that had had her escorted out of the restaurant that first day.  She could hear someone pleading to be heard, begging for an opportunity on the other side of that door, not so different than she had been that first day.

“Get your ass out of my sight,” Rhys growled.  “I don’t work with bootlicking, shit for brains, talentless, nobodies.”  The pleading continued, whoever it was starting to sob.  “You have until I reach one.  Five, four, three,” the door flew open and a young man stumbled out, fresh tears on his face and papers hastily clutched to his chest with a briefcase.  Behind him was Rhys, wearing the same immaculate black suit he had worn out of the house that morning, but looking nothing like the male that had bid her to have a good day only hours before.  Instead he almost looked like some dark lord, just short of sprouting talons and fangs.  His violet eyes snapped up to her and the vicious scowl on his face deepened.

“Who told you that you could be here?”  He demanded, that same icy tone directed at her. 

She froze at the tone, the malice in his eyes as he looked at her.  It struck fear inside of her soul that she wasn’t sure she had ever felt.  No wonder that young man had taken off running when he had started counting.  She was close to trembling at she held his gaze, more at the shock of it.  Somehow she had been tricked since they had started working together into believing that he wasn’t all that bad.  Now she knew better.  He was an ass.  A prick.  A boss she would be done with shortly.  She’d start looking for apartments as soon as she left so she could get away from him.

“I brought you a gift.  Enjoy,” she tossed the bag into the conference room, not caring if what was inside broke.  Then she turned and fled, her cheeks burning red with shame at thinking he was different.  Hot tears burned her eyes but she didn’t bother wiping them away as she crossed through the lobby, out onto the sidewalk, and to a place she could hail a cab.

A hand curled around her bicep as she raised her hand to hail a cab.  She turned to give Rhys the talking to he deserved.  Of course he would follow her.  Likely he was out here to tell her that she was fired for trespassing when not invited or something like that.  But when she turned, it wasn’t Rhys’ violet eyes she glared at, but a pair of cinnamon colored ones attached to a strong man with blazing red hair.

“Hello, Miss Archeron.  We missed you at your apartment.  A pity you let others die in your place.”

Feyre’s mind froze at the words.  This was the arsonist that had burned down her apartment building to get to her.  The man responsible for the deaths of her neighbors.  The man that had been aiming to kill her apparently.  And now his hand was wrapping around her bicep tight enough to bruise as he dragged her away from the curb in her shock towards a waiting car.  Good sense kicked in a moment later as she realized that if she got in that car, she would die.  She tried to wrench her arm from his grasp but he had too firm of a hold on her.  She opened her mouth to yell but found a knife pressed against her throat instead.

“You yell, you die.  You fight, you die,” the voice was far too calm in her ear for the sharp edge against her neck.  He pressed just a little and she felt her skin slice, just enough for her to know he was probably serious.  It kept her quiet enough as she thought of how to escape that he managed to shove her into the back seat of the car and followed her in.

Seated in the back of the car, the knife moved to pointing at her side instead of at her throat.  If he stabbed her in the side, she had a chance of living she was sure.  More of a chance than if he slit her throat.  Her mind set to racing even as the car pulled out into traffic.  There were two men in the front seat with enough of a resemblance to the man next to her than she assumed they were brothers.  Somehow she had gotten lucky that there wasn't a fourth brother blocking her in.  She had a clear shot to the door even if she was going to roll out into oncoming traffic.  The chance of escape was worth the potential injuries or worse.  She just needed an opportune moment.

It came a few minutes later as they came to some road construction that seemed to be detouring traffic.  The three brothers began to argue about how to get to where they were going and the one holding a knife at her side was distracted enough that he was applying less and less pressure.  As they slowed down to turn in bumper to bumper traffic, she made her move.  With a prayer to the mother for surviving, she shoved open the car door and threw herself out, rolling across the concrete as she heard one of the men shouting.

But Feyre didn't give them time to find a place to pull over or stop.  She rolled to her feet despite the burning scrapes on her skin from the concrete and the deep ache in her bones from the fall and burst towards the other side of the street and down an alleyway.

She kept running though no one was directly behind her.  Feyre doubted they were going to let her get away so easily.  She twisted down one alley into another and another until the sight of a bus stop and approaching bus stopped her dead.  She didn't care where the bus was going, only that she was on it.

As she climbed the stairs of the bus, she froze, realizing that her purse was gone.  Her phone, her wallet, her money all gone.  She didn't remember dropping it but her mind hadn't been focused on that at all.  It was a minor loss compared to her life but it did mean she didn't have money for the bus fare.  The driver raised an eyebrow at her when she fumbled with her pockets.

"Please, I'm being chased," she whispered to the driver.  His eyes scanned her and then he silently jerked his head back down the aisle between seats.  She let out a sigh of relief as she moved back on the mostly full bus and threw herself into a seat, grateful of the advertising wrap over the windows that kept people from seeing in.

She truly didn't relax until they were well away from that section of the city.  Now she had a new problem.  She needed to make it back to the townhouse but she didn't have money or her phone.  She would have to walk because she doubted anyone would just take her there on her promise to pay them.  Watching out the window for anything familiar, Feyre breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted a park she did recognize.  She had taken note of it the day before when they had been driving to different shops.  It wasn't very close to the townhouse but she did know the way from there and even if it took hours to walk to the townhouse, she didn't care.  At least she knew where she was.  She pulled the chord to stop, called a thank you to the driver, and started down the sidewalk.

Her mind was almost completely occupied by keeping an anxious eye on her surroundings.  Was that person looking at her a little too closely?  Was that car slowing down behind her?  Every person on the sidewalks or driving by set her nerves on edge.

She wasn't sure what time it was by the time she wandered up the street to the townhouse, only that it was probably after dinner as her stomach seemed to be reminding her along with the sun sinking into the horizon.  Even more telling was the number of cars at the townhouse letting her know everyone was there which meant the work day was over. 

Exhaustion hit her hard as she opened the front door.  Harder still when she heard a sudden stop to the conversations going on inside.  She dragged her eyes off the floor to see Rhys paused mid-pace, and concerned gazes all in her direction.

"Feyre..." Rhys started.

"Don't worry, Mr. Night, I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can replace the contents of my purse," she stepped around him, pretending not to notice he looked as if he had been slapped, and trudged towards the stairs.  No conversation followed her as she climbed up and didn't resume as she went down the hall to the guest room.

She undressed and ran a bath, hoping to soak the aches in her body away.  She hissed as the heat hit the scrapes on her skin but sank into the water all the same.  She barely had the energy to give her skin a bit of a scrub to get the dirt off of her before she pulled herself from the water before she could pass out in it.

With a towel wrapped around her, she stepped out into the bedroom and stopped dead at the sight of her purse sitting on the edge of her bed.  It hadn't been there when she had come into the room and she knew she had taken it with her.  There was no reason it should be in her room unless those men were somehow in the house and had put it there.  She took a step backwards, back towards the bathroom hoping to lock herself inside just as the bedroom door opened.

Hiding in the bathroom wasn't ideal but it was better than being dragged out naked.  Did the others know they were here?  Would Rhys even care if she was kidnapped from under his roof now?  Someone was walking through the room, getting closer to the bathroom door.  She heard them try the door handle and her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Feyre?"  Cassian called through the door and she let out a breath of relief.  "Tell me you didn't drown in there."

Even though she was wrapped in a towel she opened the door and saw Cassian sweep his eyes over bruises and scrapes on her visible skin.

"Want to tell me why I got a phone call from your phone this afternoon asking if I'd be willing to pick up your purse for you?"  He raised an eyebrow at.  "Had to go to some fancy little boutique to pick it up from one of the clerks who said they found it in the gutter."

"That was nice of them.  I had expected someone to have stolen it," Feyre moved past him to the closet to find a soft shirt and soft, loose pants to sleep in.

"What happened Feyre?  I bring your purse here and find Rhys in a panic because you aren't here and he got more panicked when he saw I had your purse.  He was raving about being an idiot, which of course he is, but I couldn't get him to clarify.  And then you show up a couple hours later looking like shit and like you might pass out.  As your friend, I'd like an answer to something."

Feyre dressed and came out to see Cassian perched on the edge of her bed looking concerned.  She had never really had a friend to be concerned about her so it was surprising.  More so because she found she wanted to tell him.  She crawled into the bed and sat next to him.

"I brought Rhysand a gift and he reminded me I wasn't welcome at the offices unless invited apparently.  And when I left someone grabbed me and shoved me into a car at knife point," she waved at the cut on her neck.  "Rather than let them kill me somewhere else, I managed to get out of the moving car, caught a bus, and walked here when I saw a place I recognized.  So I'm rather tired, and sore, and I think I just want to sleep."

Cassian blinked at her as he seemed to process all she had said.  Then his eyes scanned over her again.  He stood and pulled her into a tight hug before releasing her.

"Stay here.  I'll get you something to eat and make sure the others leave you alone."  He slipped out the door and she settled back onto the bed.  She had every intention of staying awake for Cassian's return but she was asleep before she could even consider turning the lights out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright fine, I did the kidnap thing but I kept it short and Feyre is awesome enough to save herself. Please comment. It makes my day to read comments on my work.

**Author's Note:**

> Rhys is a prick for a reason. It gets better. Slow burn but not too slow because I don't plan on making this another crazy long one.


End file.
